A Fallen Angel Talks to God

Pale dissatisfactions block the sides,
and I see watery eyes under their curtains,
trapped in changeling dreams.
There are waves of dark intensity,
but if I fly,
I could see misfortune's face and smile.
It is despite love, my love.
Sing me a song for sleep,
and wane the winds.
I am driftwood in the sky,
uncaring of breathless space or useless ground.
There are better wings than this.