The Captured Angel Comments on Death – Neil Carpathios
It’s a great invention.
People are a lot nicer
when they’re dead.
They don’t get impatient
waiting in line at the license bureau.
Let us enter this again. In the context of this paragraph,
we are hurtling backward through space, toward a small
opening: I press my hand to your lip and you bite. You bite
my spine. Ben his jawline was stellar. Ben his curlicue.
(from self + edge, the firmly woven edge of a fabric that resists unravelling)
Who knew her son had salvaged so many hates?
Their feet twitched a little, like thrushes caught
In a fowler’s net. The simile had the tang
Of remorse. No, surely the idea was his