Snickering Spirits: Slick as Snot Down There

The angels laugh

at us,
for ever
giving a
flightless
fuck about
love.

They go
unseen behind
mere mortals
making faces
and
holding their
sides

splitting open
with raucous
guffaws:
mad
falterings
of wings.

They sneer
at our best
songs;
our
most sexy-
subtle subtext
scarcely hidden
in poor poems
embarrassingly
human.

Seraphs nod
and wink
to Cherubim,
who have never
even seen a bow
and arrow,
and never
had any
interest
in this thing
we call love
to begin with.

I have heard they have no junk-

genitals if you will-

and while I am as yet
unprepared to
surrender mine,

I can see where things
might be simpler,
and a sense of humor
suffice to serve.