shot glass
"... brevity is the soul of wit ..."
- William Shakespeare

E.M. Darnell



The angels are afraid of death,
Since like us they are earthly born,
Vessels dreading the end breath,
Eyes on paradise. They're not
Let in by wing alone– they burn
And ache their best to have a shot
Up there, confessing awful things,
Shaking off their shameful deeds,
And fair flesh still easily bleeds
(Hell always has room for wings).
A deity needs no heavenly beings,
But anything that fiercely pleads
With men to be received in even
The dimmer vicinities of heaven.