My angel bats upon
the stained glass window
like a slain moth dizzying,
or two drunk harpists

begging for their jobs
back. I open the flap,
and the thing falls in.
Lugubrious ows; bemoanings

like an aeolian hymn; a sign
of trouble at the top? Good
god, yes: there’s a recession
in heaven. Trap-

doors have opened,
carpets of furry tongue
are being rolled,
the thin-winged being

pushed, bespectacled inspectors
trimming the rigmarole.
In fact, he’s a lucky one,
this one just landed:

he’ll be encased in bricks
of salt and lemon,
baked with black-birds and
gentle pepper for his soul.

james, will be back for more reads - first impression, laughter and pepper  :)

k

very clever, james!
much enjoyed, especially
"there's a recession in heaven"

Stella

Yes, I like this too. It seems slightly over-articulated, as though you're a gymnast going in quick succession from the ropes to the horse to the parallel bars, but you're so good on each of them that I don't really mind the slightly scuffled transitions.

Fun and good.

Cheers

David