Before
they were interns for the Imp of the Perverse
The
three angels were not friends; (the Courts of Heaven
Are so
vast that an angel set to count its inhabitants
Will
never finish even though she has an abacus
Whose
beads are as the sands of all the Earths.)
Nor
had God willed that chance should unite them.
Still,
thrown on their own they proved compatible
And
roomed together, commuting each morning
From a
boarding house in 1907 to an office
In
early 2016. Blaufre had a dueling scar;
She
did not like to be asked about it so Glaur
Made
up stories about its origin claiming it came
From
Blaufre’s time as a musketeer. “Her wings
Gave
her away and she was dismissed, but not before
A
drunken brawl in which she defeated four soldiers
And an
enormous trained rat which spoke bad French.”
Zafriel
would smile politely as Glaur’s stories soared
And
swooped and got distracted by shiny objects
Waiting
for the pause in which he could ask
“Has
either of you noticed the Imp of the Perverse
Sometimes
resembles God? It unsettles me.”
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