angels dream up the wildest excuses
for waking up late, for missing meetings,
for eating cheese puffs just before supper,
for the broken window next door,
and the marbles stuck up little sister’s nose
responsibility is reserved for earthly matters,
consequences of flesh & bone where
one + one equals two rather than infinity
spun into spiral springs and bounced down
the stairs to crash ceremoniously against physics
so angels can dream lugubrious visions
of sanguine potential and accomplish nothing
of purpose, merely lending ethereal ears
to fickle issues of time-trapped myopic beings
offering to salve the trauma of physics
— John Reinhart
An arsonist by trade, John Reinhart lives on a farmlette in Colorado with his wife and children. His poetry has recently been published in Scifaikuest, Star*Line, and FishFood Magazine. More of his work is available at http://www.patreon.com/johnreinhart
Tags: John Reinhart, Poetry