Three Poems (#3) – Eirean Bradley

brokenwings

“Broken Wings” – Andre Wee

WHY EVERY JUNKIE IS THE MOST DEVOUTLY RELIGIOUS PERSON THAT YOU KNOW

because they understand
that to truly know god, blood is always involved.

because a syringe looks like a cross
built for a purpose.

because one side of god’s love is always sharp.

because when you do it right,
you can feel him in every capillary, every fiber of you,
every shudder and flutter breath, because that’s why your eyes close,
because you can’t focus your eyes in the presence of the lord, because god is good
god is good is god is good is good is god is god is good.
because you only truly miss grace when
it was IN you.

when it falls out of you in drops, when even your eye lashes can feel the absence,
when your lungs and heart know a thousand ghost earthquakes, 

because your family is filled with unbelievers
because the police are roman soldiers
because the modern church is constructed out of the teeth of wolves.

because you can only know that you are empty vessel 
when you are empty.
Because knowing god takes work,
seeking him out every day.



ON THE TWENTY-SEVENTH DAY SINCE THE LAST TIME GOD WAS SEEN AT THE OFFICE

St. Peter is wondering if Vahalla has had time to look at his resume yet.

Temp angel morale has plummeted
as they have fallen behind on the miracle quota 
for the third time this month.

The angels have let their hygiene slip.,
Their smoke breaks are getting longer and longer.

Uriel bangs his angelic fist on his desk and says “god dammit” and waits to be admonished
for having the audacity to tell the boss what to do.

No one says anything. 
He goes back to work dodging the creditors. 

The bills are piling up and changing colors like an angry autumn,
and the office furniture rental company’s trucks hover in the parking lot like vultures. 

Satan stopped corrupting the hearts of men after the eighth day.
Heaven’s lack of response has taken the fun out of the whole endeavor.

The revelation that he has been living in his father’s basement for years
slowly dawning across his crimson cheeks, 
he checks Craigslist for roommates.

He looks for marketing jobs and wonders how much he should lie on his resume.



THE RECENTLY RETIRED ARCH ANGEL URIEL TRIES HIS HAND AT MODERN PSYCHOLOGY

Maybe what it is 
is you are twenty seven low tier angels
knotted together
a mass of spastic fluttering, each of the fifty four wings
having it’s own trajectory, 
and that is why you are always in the same exact place
that you started from, but you feel all the tremors and motion
sickness

or

You are an army of left turns
and every move
brings you back to you

or

you are the newest incarnation of Whistler
and you are painting yourself into a corner painting
yourself into a corner painting yourself into
a corner painting yourself 

or

screaming looks good on you
brings out the color in your cheeks
tightens the muscles in your neck
makes you bomb drop gorgeous

or

the suicide voice in you
is correct. maybe it’s that you are lucky and
tuned into the whispering voice of god and
the last one who leaves is a rotten egg

or
your head is an apartment filled with monsters
they have tipped over all of the furniture, 
they have their hands across the mouth of your conscience,
and every tiny tiny death you deal yourself leaves
one of them a corpse. he is unable to hurt you anymore and
one day after the culling, after you turn you into a killing floor
you will place your shaking and ragged palm
to your ear and hear the pure you that you always assumed lived in you
but for now, there is work to do.

or

you are a machine.
you were designed poorly.
it’s not your fault.

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About Eirean Bradley

is a 2 time pushcart prize nominated author of 2 full length books of poetry "the i in team" and "the little big book of go kill yourself" on University of Hell Press. He is also the poetry curator on this lovely site. If you think this site sucks, he thinks you are wrong. View all posts by Eirean Bradley

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