Silk Angel

He and she made silk angels on the sheets.

Her heart froze in her chest.

We lesser men watched now without right of judgment, this

Source of all good and hence of evil, pleasure

And hence of pain, watch them now too, the flies.

The flies are-

Without a moral sense that we can measure,

And thus without our sins. Better by far

To stand in awe of their blind love upon this mountain of flesh

Than seeing the royal cross, the gaudy butcher's mark

Still steaming with the stench of her torment.