Wednesday, 25 November 2020

Angel Tears


My dream job is to count the tears of angels.

I’m not certain of the line’s meaning,

or of the existence of angels,

or even if they cry,

but it would give me something to say

to a smug pilgrim, if ever I met one.

‘I count the tears of angels,’ I would say,

and imagine the reactions this might provoke.

Perhaps anger and a punch in the face?

Fortunately, I have many faces,

and I would simply replace my battered visage

with a non-broken one.

I’m hoping they would express violent anger;

it’s the most fun of all the sudden emotions –

to witness, that is –

and it would mean that their pilgrimage

had been a complete waste of time.

‘God bless you,’ I would say,

as I threw some angel tears in their face,

for one of the benefits of counting angel tears

is that you get to keep some of them.

How much is some?

I don’t know. Shall we say seven percent?

Seven is a magic number,

and angels are quite magical,

so that’s my scientific guess.

It would be interesting to see if angel tears

could cure the pilgrim of smugness,

but let’s, for the time being,

not all hold our breaths.

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