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 
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.

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  

Post a Comment

<< Home