Heroes

I see Bowie @ his execution
archly poised, a pointed gun,

his gentleness in isolation
exuberant and fine;

hadn’t heard from him in years,
a loved one, standing  by the wall

The speaker was an angel,
he coughed and shook his crumpled wings

            moved his lips: 
It’s time we should be going.

His song: I’d not be done with Heroes
for all I’ve tried and written,

sadly now when Bowie plays the shadow
turning on a screen, he's gone

I know.  I hear it on the radio,
I feel it in my soul.