A Survey of Angels

‘as an angel, do you ever get tired of
considering other people’s feelings?’ she asked.
this caused quite a stir 
within the surveyed population.
first stray wings started to flutter
heated gazes met and slid away
then legs and thighs began to shift 
in their seated and floating positions.
half of the choir gasped ‘never!’ 
indignant at the implications for all
present and absent, celestial and mundane,
immortal hearts expanded through holographic skies
to hold every being close and shield each one from hurt,
while the other half sighed ‘always,’ 
shoulders bowed from a worldly weight, 
palms itching for the power they once had to reign,
indulging in the sweetness of admission
like honeyed peaches dripping on the tongue.
the room split into two even as the journalist observed
that some angels were singing in both tones at once,
an odd echo in their voices sounding out the harmony of a species
united in dissonance, a simultaneous dual state created
through the very same ardor that made souls leap out of their etheric bodies,
slipping between the bars of rib cages safe and secluded in their floating cathedrals,
skipping dimensional staircases all the way down to a realm
where even the brave would fear to tread,
where even the pure would embody sin.
dutifully, she noted the results.