a Son of God
fell from the sky last night
trailing bright sparks
intoxicated by the atmosphere
broken and twitching
like a stunned baby bird
in my lap
(much too soon to leave the nest,
this one)
I thought to repair his wings
until I discovered they were missing entirely
not fractured as expected
but, instead, clipped
as if he were some rebellious Icarus
losing altitude in a flaming descent,
meteoric pride melting in the Texas heat
“well,” I said,
“you’re surely stuck now, boy
but glad you could
– finally –
join us”
handing him the Betadine,
I turned so he could also see
my own pale stumps,
itching and scarred
but healing
regrettably,
I had no consolation to offer him
beyond a weary smirk of empathy
and a cold beer
as the antiseptic,
with its amber hellfire glow,
burned like salt in his wounds
9 May 2006