Angels by Arthur DeHart (Maine, 23)

​A waterfall;
Pours;
From;
Your;
lips.

                                                                  Blood?

No
​

                                                                  Spit.

You’re an angel you know that?
With your millions of eyes,
And “who goes there?”
Attitude.
And how I pray to god,
Everytime I’m,
Between your knees.





Arthur DeHart (he/him) is a silly goose that publishes poetry, writes audio dramas, novellas and is editor in chief at Naked Cat Lit. He loves his husband their feline children.