SERGEANT ANGEL ON GOOD FRIDAY
sergeant angel comes crashing through
the atmosphere at approx. 10,000 kms
per hour/ leaving endless other worlds
behind him/ he appears like a shadow
in the dawn sky/ along the eastern
coastline of australia/ on the national
news & numerous radio stations/ it is
reported that a large prehistoric bird
is falling to its death from the sun/
as the fireball drops from the clouds
the wind has dropped & the earth
itself is still & curious/ more rain
seems imminent/ the clouds have risen
higher with the heat that has tipped
their edges/ sergeant angel has fallen
through eternity charred & bloody/
he squats enfolded by his dark wings/
cringing in the soil/ space ash floats
on the surface 2 kms away from where
he has landed/
sergeant angel, i thought
that your profession was made in heaven/
your folded arm stance, blue pants &
chain smoking all the way to the clouds/
my confessions flew to you like birds/ to
drop against your chest like petals onto
concrete/ & you smiled as you lied to me/
playing mr nice & nasty/ you promised
to love me forthwithly/ the easy or the
hard way/
& i thought that god was in
my eyes/ but it was your interrogation
light/ & you pounded me to pieces with
a telephone book/ just like the graffiti
said you would/ & you threw me in a
ditch/ & flicked your cigarette butt
onto my cheeks/ & you covered me up/
then you covered your tracks/ now
you linger by the bullet shell of my
existence/
your new starched shirt
as blue as the day containing your
slack body/ i am waiting underground/
too many bad cops around/ & the dirt
of our relationship under my tongue/
you buried me now go away/ bring your
search party on easter sunday/ you
are standing on my grave stupid man/
find another member of the public to
take it all out on/
stop sending me
your love letters like summons/ lock
up your divy-van heart at night &
don't bother to patrol my street/ i'm
all right/ the sky was blue, but all i
saw, was your blue shirt, with your biro
in your pocket/ & your cold blue eyes
& right wing lips & gun holster on
your swaying hips/
there are a lot of
bad cops around these days/ one hand
on their guns/ one hand on their cocks/
observing from patrol cars in ill-fitting
uniforms/ idiots & you could be any
one of them/ ever since the state
standard was lowered/ but hopefully
you are suffering far away quietly/
too unhealthy, too heart broken to
follow me/ sergeant angel, you're no
angel to me |
