Livid creatures helicopter in
to lift ceilings, hovering just long
enough to peer in, lifting spirits
averse to song, singing ferocious

hymns filling ears with constellation-
shaking vibrations tripping tension
of taut wires to divide to let fly
by wingèd messengers here for us

in our moment of consternation.
Azure and or and not much more glints
against heaven’s dome, flows, enlivens
more than coats of paint do arms granted

by sovereigns to knights, night it tints
more vivid by showing eyes glimpses

of what cathedrals imitate when,
in their eaves, all that praying gathers
like sweat does on a brow, crowding this
place these beasts descend on auspicious

as angels instead of doves blessing
a wedding with their portent sent when
those in attendance question even
god’s existence. Dew on the bough rusts

the crucifixion’s nails, weeps and bends
the sacred tree’s holiest wood to
splinters which, with thorns, crown the mission’s
ladder, thrown down to rescue olives

of hearts from being crushed to oil, sin
mixes blood with water fire washes.