It could be compared to a whale fall
or wildfire. Machines around the city start to break down.
You’ll notice a hardness in the shopkeeper’s eyes.
Milk sours more quickly.
On the street, you will begin to see the faces of the dead in those of complete strangers.

Even after it dies, the angel may continue to sing.
It remains upright for some time,
but eventually its own weight drags it back down to earth. The impact can be compared to
25,000 tons of bombs. Animals may be drawn to the outpouring of spiritual energy
from the corpse.

There are many ways an angel can die,
although most are poorly understood:
Starvation, illness,
some unknown trauma.
Most people only witness it once or twice in their lifetimes.

Don’t be frightened, my children, when you don’t see its rusting bulk on the horizon. They’ll send us a new one before long.

[Editor’s Note: Publication of this poem was made possible by a donation from Catherine Rockwood during our annual Kickstarter.]