The World Keeps Turning by Christopher A. Lane

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he said something about an anniversary and then the sun fell into the sea, the moon was in the meadow, white and cold as milk.  we cried and his voice made us want to believe and the keen eyes of a thousand angels raked the earth until they cried too and God knew for certain that a mistake had been made:  he called for Gabriel he called for judgment, he called for enough holy whiteout to erase a galaxy.  and still he sang, crooning, hissing about the kite string of time and love and a lonely, sad-eyed universe filled with black holes and dangling anniversaries

Contact Christopher A. Lane at: ShamblinGait@aol.com