The Angel


were needle points,

all bright blue irises

lit by the glow of a neon


Her wings

were made of dark, stained-glass windows

and when she flew, glass cracked



was her sword’s name;

it was black as the stone

at al Ka’aba (it was one of

the first).

When she

brought Something down like a bass drop

upon the clay, it split

all clay’s atoms

to void.

1 thought on “The Angel

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