My Human Uniform, Disrobed

The clambering branches weep
with serpentine precision
while delicate dew floats
through a curtain of sunlight
to gather on my lashes
and appraise what remains of the Angel in me.

Frozen in a falsehood
breathing deep the sentiment
and voraciously! as a lover would;
I’m afraid to move
and afraid to blink
lest they see the Devil in me.

But these glass tears and emerald canopies
with their slow, impartial acceptance
can now no longer fathom
the fever dreams, nor the racing fancies
nor the heavy desires which still define
that fundamental weakness of the Human in me.