Apocalyptic Rabbit Speaks

you are trying to figure out
how to make this girl an angel

you wonder if you have the colors you will need
and the brushes, and the knives, and the eye

why are you trying to figure out
how to make this girl an angel?

you can’t think; hard to be sure if a little black
mixed in with the blue will be enough

why do you think you have what it takes
to make this girl an angel?

what marriage of darkness and light will,
with the clarity of a dream, show how far into the morning she flies?

who are you to make the dark, pink flesh
emerge from the canvas like blood from a cut?

the iron gates at the base of heaven
are chained shut: no one in, no one out

was it wise to make her try to rise up
into a sky full of rain late at night?

and then you gave her mere tatters of white lace, billowing
barely enough to cover her breasts and her sex

you could change the color of her wings
in your creation
but you let them stay gray,
and begin to work on the lightning behind her

what is her name,
this angel your brush
has trapped between heaven and earth

and

who do you think you are