in the moment of awakening

the first part is easy

set the fat man on fire just to
hear the young girls laugh, and
of course they do

smell of roses in the back yard,
sound a train passing through the
middle of town and when you
turn to slap your son your
hand is made of feathers and glass

when the plane crashes into
                               the river
all the angels are out of town

the house is empty and the
pool drained

nothing but bones in the garage

painter out behind the barn with
an empty canvas and his 
                      hands cut off

says god is either
everywhere
or nowhere at all

says faith is the smell of roses
or the smiles of sleeping
                               children

everything a reminder of death
and everyone a corpse draped
in beautiful tapestries

each day the one that
will matter most




one wrong choice given flesh
and wings and
all it ever does is
fly too close to the sun

About the Author: john sweet, b 1968, still numbered among the living. A believer in writing as catharsis. Opposed to all organized religion and political parties. His latest collections include APPROXIMATE WILDERNESS (2016 Flutter Press) and the limited edition chapbooks HEATHEN TONGUE (2018 Kendra Steiner Editions) and A BASTARD CHILD IN THE KINGDOM OF NIL (2018 Analog Submission Press). All pertinent facts about his life are buried somewhere in his writing.