She said she was a fallen angel.
I partly believed it because the bar was closing
and she looked anything but angelic.
She had rust colored hair and a worn glow.
I asked her; 'What are you doing, later.'
She said; 'I am going to walk the road to Perdition.'
I asked; 'What town is that in? '
I got her to smile.
I told her I would give her a lift.
I brought her to my place.
She said nothing in the ride.
I asked; 'What do you drink? '
She answered; 'Blood red wine.'
I poured her some old merlot.
I stroked her hair and kissed her.
It was forced.
I relaxed.
She took off her blouse.
She was bruised all over.
I asked her where she got the bruises.
She said; 'Michael gave them to me when he cast me out.'
I thought, the archangel or a cruel boyfriend.
I didn't press.
She asked me to put on some music
and then she danced for me,
it was a kind of awkward teasing dance.
I swallowed my drink.
She was really quite pretty
when you picked through all the hazards.
She was completely naked now.
I poured myself a double.
I got up and danced with her.
I stroked her back.
I asked about her wings.
She said; 'Life has stripped them and I can no longer fly.'
I rolled a joint and got her high.
That is the night I slept with a fallen angel.
In the morning
she would be walking the road to Perdition
and I would be living in my house of ruin.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem