As the gate closes, the angel tumbles down,

Out of his bloodstained mouth comes a noun,

He calls for his beloved. But his wings,

Are broken- he is trapped where mortals love things,

More than fellow humans. The angel hits,

The ground. Already broken wings snap into bits,

He leaps up ignoring the hurt, screaming her name,

Over and over. Each syllable is raked with pain.

xx

Later, the paramedics find the angel dead,

Lying in the cold streets, his wings he has shed,

Blonde hair bloodied, shunned from his kin,

They cover the angel up and put him in a coffin,

And throw dirt on his face. A single white,

Rose grows on his grave, to alert to his plight,

For you see this angel did not sin,

Yet he was cast out of heaven.