The Poetry of Mark Daniel Milbocker 
The Fallen

How easier falls the ax 
when we look into their eyes
and suffer no reflection
for we fancy gemstones of other colors
and eschew inclusions of mossy fossils
that fluoresce in the purer light of 
kindness and surrendered neediness
for the ego is but a hairy nevus 
that betrays the comely with
a snaggletooth fang and sets their
eyes against the fall of 
Cruella's cathedral as they 
hide their puppies and salute 
lest they be called to the decimation
of the brownian motion of mere motes
who refuse to decry meteors as
witchy omens to cull before the
herd's milk runs viral.
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