Preparations for the Final Hours
We did not believe at first:
the absence of a mountaintop,
the presence of wings
stapled on.
A dozen angels
orbited the Barnton roundabout,
spitting glitter
at the peak time jam.
We felt anger
in hymns they hummed
whose words
we had long forgotten.
Cars barbecued
like hamburgers
smoking from
the bubbling tarmac.
Dogs howled
interfaith prayers.
The atheist cats
growled back.
“Hurrah!” the dogs prayed.
The angels dropped low,
unaccustomed to appreciation,
and sang off-key
on how faith was possible
if cynicism became
less routine
when demanded of us.
Categories: Journaling the Apocalypse
Nice one, Rob. I’m growling with those atheist cats.
Some brilliant images in this: spitting glitter; cars barbecued. A lot of good things, especially the more concrete bits. Loved it.