Anticipation of the Angels
Anticipation of the angels in
Our lives is like transparent gold. We seek
The glow of beauty and the flame of sin
With them, a flame as powerful and weak
As that from candles. We desire yellow
Heat beaming from angelic shapes, but blue
Peripheries of fire prime our mellow
Hearts to explode with conflagration. True
To self-destruction (glimpsed through the shimmer
Of lust), true to beauty like the moth, we
Long, long to see and touch the least glimmer
Of angels whom we want so utterly.
But they retreat behind the door God slams,
And we are roasted, sacrificial lambs.