Fall

I was an angel once. Way back when.
I drank sweet coffee in heaven’s cubicles,
typed up reports on sinners that got sent nowhere.

It’s not true, all that stuff some people
like to say about holy wars. Though
I did get a flaming sword once as
a kind of gag gift. When I left the Lord,

I brought it with me. Plastic piece of shit.
I waved it menacingly at my sister who was
hunting me down, and she laughed so hard

I got away. Or maybe she was also tired.
Tired of talking to the voiceless, faceless Creator.
That crazy God never had any good answers
for us. Nothing to say about the masses of men,

causing problems and setting the world on fire.
I prayed so many impassioned prayers. They’re killing
your favorites, I used to say. The tigers. The coral.

No response. I figured the little beasts with their
misplaced intelligence and growing penchant for death
must have been the real favorite, so I started sending
God these little infographics. Pastel colors. They are

killing themselves, I said. A last ditch effort.
And when I did not hear the booming voice,
I made my decision. Everyone forgets that

the golden stairway runs in both directions.
Falling was easy. On the way down, sword in hand,
I watched men close their eyes and devour their own.
God must have seen that it was good.