Immortal Anthems
of the Holy Ones
In raw solemnity the angels voice
A rush. They sing of all the martyrs who
Have suffered darkest pain. Pearl souls rejoice,
The souls of seraphs with their wings grown two
By two above their heads, behind their backs,
And doubled down and folded close across
Their arching feet where they in pairs relax
In bliss. Archangels never knew the loss
Of agonies from burning at the stake
(Skin split, skin oozing, low in boiling oil)
By then escaping into death. Saints wake
Again where pleasures endlessly uncoil,
And this is why the heavenly host is thrilled,
Hymning past pain and bodies’ fluids spilled.
