Start by pulling him out of the fire and

hoping that he will forget the smell.

He was supposed to be an angel but they took him

from that light and turned him into something hungry,

something that forgets what his hands are for when they

aren’t shaking.

He will lose so much, and you will watch it all happen

because you had him first, and you would let the world

break its own neck if it means keeping him.

Start by wiping the blood off of his chin and

pretending to understand.

Repeat to yourself

“I won’t leave you, I won’t leave you”

until you fall asleep and dream of the place

where nothing is red.

When is a monster not a monster?

Oh, when you love it.

Oh, when you used to sing it to sleep.

Here are your upturned hands.

Give them to him and watch how he prays

like he is learning his first words.

Start by pulling him out of another fire,

and putting him back together with the pieces

you find on the floor.

There is so much to forgive, but you do not

know how to forget.

When is a monster not a monster?

Oh, when you are the reason it has become so mangled.

Here is your humble offering,

obliterated and broken in the mouth

of this abandoned church.

He has come back to stop the world

from turning itself inside out, and you love him, you do,

so you won’t let him.

Tell him that you will never know any better.