A She-Angel is Punished For Falling in Love with Virgin Mary: A poem

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A psychotic angel rests

with a knife in her mouth

behind the door of a treehouse


and wonders if she is a self-centered

pawn of His,


a thought that knocks at her sub-self-conscious

with crumbling embered finger tips

and liquid rings.


Gold drips like feathers from a molting bird

down her forearm.

Molten rings harden to drown her left fist

in armor.


The treehouse

is cage punishment:

A frantic makeshift penitentiary

just for our psychotic angel,

an afterlife sinner.


Mary spent every morning this past year

in front of the mirror trying to convince herself:


Sex with a she-angel doesn’t count.

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Contact Hannah Frances Johansson at [email protected] and follow her on Twitter at @hanfrancesjohan.