Angels Graffiti
Spray paint and dried blood
splattered crime
committed by whom?
The artist
spraying the final touches
of Gabriel’s out-stretched wing
on the brick and mortar
of the town central church
or was it the cop
a deacon on Sundays
who in the name of St Michael
put the finishing touches
on Gabriel’s face
with a billy club backstroke
to the back of Billy’s brain?
His spray paint can
holy rolled and hid
in darkness
behind the rose bordered billboard
advertising its message
of love and forgiveness
and its announcement
of the gathering now in service
where as usual
the largest crowd of the week gathered
to hear the clergyman in black
who now speaks
from behind his pulpit
his sermon tonight is,
“B-1”
“Amen!” someone shouts. “Bingo!”
But all the cards
in front of Billy’s mom
are losers
so she staggers to her feet
and stinking of bourbon
she curses her luck
in the name of St Michael
and like the foul air
that blows through
the chapel vents
she blows through
stained glass doors
and lumbers along her way
holding to the wall for support
until her foot rolls
onto a weed shrouded cylinder
and drops her onto her back
where pitifully she weeps
and sleeps broken hearted
a heart that is done
and can’t be restarted
she rests now in peace
enshrouded in the wings
of an angels graffiti.
