“I shot an arrow into the air
it fell to earth I knew not where,”
from Henry Wadsworth Longfellow’s
“The Arrow and the Song”
When she came to me, Azazyel, I didn’t
put two and two together. All angels
can be fickle souls and I was pregnant
at the time. To ascribe human morals
to them is like saying rocks choose to be
good or that the sky chooses to be blue.
Really? As lovers I knew her swampy
region, her tiny hills, her lush bamboo
grove. Then came war. Just because I can’t touch
her does not mean she’s gone. Our Sammael
looks like you: with horns, hooves, eyes like the moon.
Of the rebels, the news never says much.
just, “shots fired in the third circle of Hell.”
Hurry home soon, lover. Hurry home soon.