Cherub
Your cerberific head and peacock wings simultaneously disturb and delight me. If only I knew what those blind heads were seeing.
If only I knew what those pretty eyes were attempting to enchant. If only I knew why the ham hocks were dancing.

Somewhere real there is a green like those irises.
Somewhere real there is a Homeric dog, bird and bull who can tell me the Odyssey of my her,
her and him:
my its,
no longer mine,
because of the velocity of tardiness, rushing through the suburban streets, unaware of the creatures' disappearances.
Somewhere real there is a reason to float through the muddied azure on tiny feet.
Your disjointed attractiveness spies upon us from high.
For this we are questionably grateful.

Bridget Madden, Weymouth, Massachusetts


Cherub
I still have nightmares and often awake my body awash with sweat and
trembling. My numb fingers find the light switch and knowing the event
happened years ago is no consolation as I see the event race past my
mind's eye like some tool used to gouge out a brain and favoured by a
torturer. I can remember drinking much wine and looking out of the
window from the aeroplane. There I saw a creature sweet enough to chill
my bones. Huge thighs gave it power as it stayed above the cloud level
in pace with the beat of the plane's engine. I saw too the wrap around
skirt , around the midriff but what scared me was the look from not one
but three heads set on a body, like some Roman multi headed standard of
the Ninth Legion of Lost Souls. But this felt different. The horned
beast, the sabre- toothed daemon and the beaked predator joined at the
neck and all waiting to greet me. And then I saw her eyes in the
feathers, many rows set deep to shock and I sweated as each eye kept
track of me. But this was no innocent event , no angelic happening no
cherubic instance , rather an intrusion into my pure mindset where
patience to grab my soul was without meaning
-Cleveland W. Gibson, (Author of Billabongo) Faringdon, United Kingdom