Gabriel's Passage

It was there the fiend slid his dagger - 

into the narrow apex between the angel's wings. 

 As the pearl feathers dip 

a garnet runnel licks, 

flickers groundward - 

 fire is the nature of angel blood. 

 The moon makes a half rice wafer 

between night clouds that conceal the stars 

and streak the sky like tracks of tears. 

 As he lands on green earth, stench 

of black oil from the serpent rises 

and fills his nostrils for the first time. 

 It is winter - grim - kissed with ice. 

Gabriel's sword craves, and his bright heart rises 

like a silver fish from the morass.