THE ANGEL, by Llewellyn McKernan

The angel that carries each soul in her lap,

the maple tree with bark-bringing sap,

all the words with meanings that lie

all the dreams, and you and I

and the eggs in the hens the color of gold,

the barn in the meadows, the tales untold,

the Book of Wisdom, the sword with two sides

that slices all things into death and life,

the computers with discs, blank and free

as you in my arms, loving me, me, me —-

are nothing but ashes in a cup of flame,

everyone is guilty, no one’s to blame.

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