10 Questions the Angels Will Ask You
1.When you were younger
did you think you could fly?
Can you?
2.When was your birth,
or creation,
the one that required you die first.
How many times did it happen,
can, will it happen again?
Will you spoke plug yourself
into the churning of a failing world
knowing there will be spinning,
For no good reason, maybe.
3.Where is your Grandmother,
granddaughter, at this exact moment,
in your body.
Could I speak with her?
What will she say about you?
What kinds of things will be said about you by legacy?
4.When was the last time you had an untellable feeling,
an emotion with no name?
What color was it,
are you, when you are lonely?
Do you crowd your pain before or after?
Are you a welcoming surrender
or a warring wait?
Would you mind if someone sat with you,
And asked the place you were
the first time something hurt you?
If the walls shook, the shelves too
and if anything fell on you.
5.Have you ever longed to tell a stranger
you love them? In an elevator maybe?
Have you ever found intimate
the closing space between you.
Wanted to cut the throat of the distance in you.
Chip your doubt over it, strum it like a harp.
Turn it breathing hole, and mouth it flute.
Air waiting to be cradled in your healing,
your hospital bed tongue
and its unfurling pink sheets.
6.If you are old and African
Or any other skin sheathing
of lost Gods and vacant history
Do you smile, cry ever?
Are you afraid to, or simply above such human faulting?
7.What do you think of skin?
Our see through bones, and creaking entries.
Our spoiling frames and overused doorways.
What of when it has a tint?
8.What exactly is love to you?
Is it morphine shot and opiate at all?
Can the spell be found foul needle
in your hands.
Who taught it to you?
Do you know someone taught it to you,
And them to?
Have you relearned it,
taken out the excess liquid and discoloring,
made it less dead.
Or is a laziness disheartening you.
9. Of that cocooning coffin body
will you show the loss?
What catastrophe has stolen,
the discarded arteries covered in tattering wishes.
Will you reveal the parts that have been hidden out of fear
So no pieces will be missing
when it is time for us to bury you.
The not so “extra” questions that were almost lost
9. Do you believe in fate?
Because you are assured this world
is set in something good for you?
Or because you are sitting, waiting
for life to happen to you?
9. Are you religious?
Do you spend more time praying in temples
or building them?
9. Are you starving, how hungry are you?
are your intestines coiling like a snake
Is there ever venom in your action, Lucifer in your want?
Do you think we fell out of heaven
or that we were banished?
What would you do to feel like something God made again?
10. Are you one of us,
Are you sure?
Are you sure,
You can’t fly?
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