The One God
Once heaven was just a boy and a girl
And a path to the beach.
That was before the rooms were gutted and you learned
How to exhibit bereavement
Would earn your weight in brimming
Moon lagers.
Literally, “the bee’s knees.”
The shoulders of Roland de Smoke
Cuddle two abreast on a tray.
While air lasts, cities also die, old gasbags
With quilted manners, prepuce because the English
Taste in pictures slackened.
Then again, despite the poison crumbs,
The two just walk on tiptoes out of doors,
Pressing along the keen incline.
What will happen, what to say
If and when the first door opens, the wings
Flutter in turn as nights subside?
