Snow was falling on the city
like a language we didn’t speak.
We stood alone on a bridge
watching ice knuckle the pylons.
This life is bound to happen, she said,
and I don't want to know your name.
This life is bound to happen,
and there's a hole, a hole,
a white hole in heaven.
She said.
She saw singed feathers
falling from heaven.
She said God’s an angry father
who won't keep.
He won't keep his hands.
He won't keep his hands to himself.
She caught snowflakes on her tongue
and in her upturned palms.
She was praying.
Her hands were folded wings.
God's a handsome debaser, she said.
He debases the finest nights with his grin.
This life is bound to happen,
and this monkey's gone to heaven.
