angels whose en-

gendered wars began

eons before

they advanced feet

in the womb,

on the earth

are relegated

Incubators,

Saviors, as

crosses born are

crossed-out and

continued

vagina shrivels to political purpose,

masquerading pundits potent in pissing partisanship

stagnate change

but she and they and he weave whole-body in a symbiotic dance,

burning enochian magic just

as brightly as their bodies on the spits 

of the mouths of dead men

whose hunts and shrieks and tears

stripped me

of my girlhood

of our solidary rhythm

time and time again

angels whose en-

gilded wings weigh heavy

on the backs of mortals,

whose gift is 

the Blame of Knowledge and Emotion,

whose consummate suffering

by the hands and mouths of

self-attributed Gods

that do nothing but prolong

the negation of

Eden,

still do fight

still do fly