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Click hereDecadent angels
have painted my sky
the color of watering holes
and elephants.
It was cupid himself,
black-winged at the bow,
who flew arrows
as clouds charged away.
No joyous trumpets
rumbled from above
like the day I reached heaven
in his arms.
God’s threat now lectures
the man who likes elephants;
the one who saved me
for rainy days.
and as you know I am disposed to like your poems, but I'm not sure I follow you completely in this one. "Black-winged at the bow" is really good, though. My problem is with the four concluding lines, which are good lines (meaning they are evocative), but I don't know what you're trying to say.
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I know, dimwit. But, hey. I'm a reader, y'know?