Fallen Angel
Sara, the fallen angel
wingspan, eight feet,
invisible, save for one
egg shaped blue birthmark,
center forehead,
sits on her unmovable mule, Elmer.
She weeps, tosses Godiva hair.
Our Sara, a make-believe nun
before angelhood, was thrown
out of the pearly gates for dunking
lost souls too deep into dark rivers,
losing more than a few to fast-racing currents;
horny Sara, too busy fingering herself
to notice.
Shit happens, she shrugged
to the inquiring Tribunal.
She misses saving the sexually addicted,
their hormones raging
in the blossoming frenzy of Spring.
She prays to the saints of Bacchus,
hopes she can find someone like
Johnny Depp or Tom Waits without Mapquest.
She knows she can bring a smile to their face
when she rides them--faster than Elmer,
leaves them with frenzied fantasies
about bouncing blue eggs ,fluttering wings,
and the strange stirring sound of the wind
moaning.
Pris Campbell
©2007
Published: Empowerment4Women
2010
Art: Lady Godiva by John Collier
from All Posters.com
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