Moloch and I made a fort last winter
with fallen branches and broken splinters.
It started to rain and he cried
said, “this is what it’s like on the other side.”

The sky shattered and the pieces
fell to Earth. The empty spaces
poked holes into the ground.
He was weeping, but there was no sound.

Fallen angels in notorious graces
rose from the mist to kiss our faces
lightly they tugged us by the wrists
towards empty spaces and grey mists.

He followed them, he floated down
wore roses and thorns fashioned in a crown
I watched him die and started weeping
my mother found me alone in the forest sleeping.