Modern Angels

It began

when I

smashed

your fine

white china

against

the wall

and stormed

out of your

beachside

mansion,

shredding

two branches

from the

potted fig tree

in the corner

and knocking

over a rare

golden lamp

in my frenzied

flight.

 

You chased

me out into

the frozen air

with a broken

bottle of

wine in hand

and mascara

streaking

your cheeks

like desecrated

rainbows,

screaming like

hell with

the passion

of lofty

heaven,

falling to

your knees

in a crumpled

dress of sinking

cumulus.

 

The wind

picked up

and blew us

to the sea

as if we

were blades

of grass.

We tumbled

through waves

and screamed

with sorrow,

until I found

your arm

in the wake

and pulled you

to my heart

for a slowly

sweet kiss,

a revival

under the

stars.