I.
I lent wings to the boy-angel, or something like wings
and he tried to fly, or something close to it, or maybe fly later,
but the sky kept freezing, freezing,
and he kept saying “I’m going up, going down, resending,”
like a clause stuck in a Wi-Fi loop.
II.
He flapped his wings, or tried to flap his wings,
or flip-flop-bat-bit-bet
the verb stopped in mid-air,
fell to the ground with a soft thud
and the boy-angel said:
“I think your grammar is failing.”
III.
I told him to fly high,
but flying high refused to be a verb today,
I called saying I was sick,
I sent a note:
“fly.exe has stopped responding.”
IV.
The angel-boy shrugged his shoulders with borrowed feathers,
half saintly, half hilarious,
and tried to ascend emotionally
joy-joy-joy-joy-joy
panic-panic-panic
joy-panic-joy-panic
(love got stuck in a recursive loop
and had to be manually restarted).
V.
He attempted a majestic takeoff,
but the takeoff turned into takeoff, disassembly,
and suddenly I was disassembling the horizon
like a child disassembling a clock
to see where the ticking hides.
VI.
“Try to have hope,” I said. But hope turned into a leap,
then into an hop
and then into a small, apologetic silence
that smelled faintly of static.
VII.
He rose anyway
not flying, not falling,
just… rising sideways,
like a divine software update
installing itself at a 37° angle.
VIII.
The clouds tried to receive him,
but their verbs also failed:
it rained, it stopped raining, it rained again,
and then they politely refused to make rain.
IX.
The angel-boy laughed,
a laugh that stammered into a hymn,
then into a failure,
then into a hymn-failure-hymn-failure
until the sky itself said:
“Please stop, you’re confusing the sun.”
X.
And finally-finally-finally-no
he hovered,
a miracle of borrowed wings and broken syntax,
and whispered:
“I think I’m flying,
or something that rhymes with flying,
or maybe I’m just becoming the verb
that verbs forgot to be.”
You know this is quasi-brilliant. It’s like an updated bible of sorts. Not so much religious as it is of the human conditioning of limitations. Truly an outstanding piece of writing.
I’ve being trying my best lately, thank you for the read and comments.
Cleverly penned, PAR. This piece is brilliantly written my friend. Truly amazing. Appreciate you.
Damian
Brother, thank you for the read and comments.
This piece has become liturgically and surgically well-constructed.
I don’t believe in angels, but they do exist. Thank you all.
PAR you are a great writer. Always pushing the envelope with your poetry. Nice work.
You’re the best, Keith!
I loved how quirky this is. I kept wondering where the next passage would go.
And it does have a comic newborn superhero feel to it with all the attempts at flying.
Truly enjoyed
Thank you a lot, poets know all the attempts at flying.