Sueyeun Juliette Lee

departing the quiet place

fuller in your quarry
          breaking stones with no need to move
   having lost all full plural forms
                    having kept the appearance of the glass sinking ship

                    granting that you the same as
          a living breath being rest assured in space     its own
a mission in the mountains, burned
                              lie still now for the motion and maze

falling air refuses private territory
                   oblique and the same struck in terror, absolved
       apologizing as a sequence, as a cocoon knows
                                                       not in all methods but out

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d7

edgy

              driven in a heartbeat
                            the potomac's flush range

                 unwalk
lithe motion
                          in quicksand      halting (is easier

                                             is never
                                                                             delayed actual flight

not responding

admits death

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Angel by angel

Here, five angels fell to earth and bled.

                                         Three of their brothers threw ashes into a pit.

              Two small river stones conversed and it was the beginning of the metric age.

                                                      Here, one angel elapsed into the continuous present.

                           Another discovered the violent pleasures of sex.

Yet another made peace with grief and dissolved into the salt sea.

                                                                    Heaven's orders were patient.

                                         There were particular absolutes to be obeyed.

                                                      Frame by frame, holy dignitaries shook hands and parted.

              Nothing was provided as conclusive evidence of their descent.

This, despite numerous catalogs and indices that were cross-referenced.

                                         Angel by angel, wing by wing, keeping beats per second, waiting.

                           One angel did not make it out.

                                                                    One angel did not want to make it out but did.

                           Another turned back for his shoe.

                                                      Yet another was still fast asleep.

              One angel questioned the necessity of flight, of darkness, of whispers.

                                                                                Angel four wondered at angel three's

silence, screamed when, touching his arm,

                                                      he crumbled into silt.