the savagery of grace
helpless cries of new elation
a harder sound. a contemplative mumble
grunts passed off for words of love
gentler means to thrive and humble
and oh those places where belphegor creeps
they dream in courtship, but in wedlock wake
to ask the spirits held back in unison
in quiet-
“will we ever find our way…?”
bended knees lie slightly crooked
the forms are robbed from those old saints
the echelon of vagaries are plied
but somehow filled with the modern mistakes
and mournful briars rise up, and touch us
until they carry us away
the provocation of bruising beauty
and the savagery of grace
new resolve holds sacred interest
the ophanim watch. the cherubs cry
wrapping themselves in skin-stained blankets
their chests are caved but the eyes are dry
and keep watch now as sidragasum seethes
the priests are rent, but still they say
as one emerges where two were spent
if only-
“we hadn’t lost our way”
lifted hands are wrapped in sorrow
with hips that rhymed and rolled in blood
it was only a small amount, they say
but the ache of unity says it was enough
and the holy worries have overtaken
have these angels come to stay?
to raid these hopes and memories
with the savagery of grace