I am the angel of death
you can fill in my other categories later
scoop sand onto the precipice
which I inhabit

with 51 pounds of rubber bands
strung around my headdress
my oxygen tank starts
where my eyeliner's attached

I am the angel of death
saucepan poised over the flame
in the cheapest apartment
lysergic eyes roving through
the goods of a dark workplace

newspapers forearm wrapped
the spine of a fish
call me from where you live
I'll trace the line backwards

through a field of wet grass
cemetery bench on a toppling
peak of dead beercans
lichens rub lipstick raw
a dollar melts in my paw
foreseen from the porch
I am the angel of death