Eva Taylor

I thought of heaven
and your dead mother

(I think the preachers
were onto something
when they spoke of
sweet melodies and
the Virgin Mary)

I wish I could kiss the
exact place the fire
made sweet love to your hand
and call upon the angels
to sing their seraphic refrain
for your perfect ears
here, on your last days.

And do we sinners deserve
any of life’s sweet
and sublime frames of time?
The kind you see in movies
and hang on the wall
so when you’re old and wrinkled
you may remember them
in clarity.

Do you recall when
the Preacher gave that sermon?
The one about Delilah
and Samson?
I wanted to kiss you
I wanted my lips to heal
every scar your father left
the night before
I wanted to heal every wound
He would leave the week after.

I wanted the wind
to pick us up
you, Icarus
I, your melting wings
I wanted to burn with you
I wanted to be engulfed
by the suns flame
you beside me
while the wind
deafens our ears.

On that Sunday, listening to that sermon
I imagined our demise
wax and feathers
angels falling from heaven
into the dark chasms below
an inferno consuming us,
but alas
you had to face that fate alone

I pray angels truly are
all 50 eyes and
sets of wings

(I pray we are all a little terrifying)

–

Eva Taylor is 19 and from North Carolina.