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| Lucifer's Bride |
| It appears that the angels are crying again, their tears fall like crystals on satin sheets, bloodstained and wrinkled with age. Their corduroy wings are folded again, the velvety smell no longer a threat. Not all of the angels have corduroy wings, some are made of gossamer, guilded with color and light. . . For tonight, these are the wings on which dreams fly into the liquid porches of our ears, steadfast and swift on until dawn when daylight breaks and the angels fade back into their cocoons again: to wait for their turn to become Lucifer's bride. |
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