Saturday, March 21, 2009

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
to fill 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.

2 Comments:

Blogger Chris Never said...

Hey hey

You said you wanted to use that line in a poem, and you have done it beautifully in this piece, it is a very sort of classical and weighty poem, a tragedy when an Angel dies, it always seems to be the worst thing that can happen short of Armageddon

3:07 PM  
Blogger burning moon said...

mmm, classical and weighty ... yeah ... that's pretty much what I was going for with this. :)

3:13 PM  

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