angels hanging from the trees

There are bloody headless angels
hanging from the trees here,
warning us not to proceed.
The road leads on though
onto darker nights and blood-thirsty bats
that no sooner than I sneeze
will pick a bite out of me.

So, I lie quietly under the sheets
White sheets that tremble off the trees
like limbs to be broken in the fury of a storm
like headless angels with curly long hair
paving the darkest of streets.