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Ganthier
I thought
he said of the wife who lasted six months before the news of this treachery of the
blood
before he lay on his back
the bottles of toxic drugs and poison for rats lined up on his sill
before the simple equation of fatigue with this
world plus a body falling to ruin,
A heart shattered by a woman's laughter,
before all of this,
she had left,
that wife, that angel
the woman of beauty who knew her beauty
I thought, he said,
she was an angel
but she wasn't,
as sometimes happens.
But now he smiled at that lazy tricksters grin, his amber eyes
sparkling
he's found his archangel; and this is how a cliche for the pop song becomes
the hymn for saints.
She came and saved him
the way archangels come into a room not asking permission; walking in as if
they have an army of angels at their command-wingless, they arrive like the
scent of incense
fill your breath and place a hand on you, and you fallen in line. This
is bigger than love
an apocryphal book with chapter and verse, could be written about this thing
the voice of God, the commanding mystery of celestial beings sacrificed to be the
mates
off the flesh weak humans, she
is this archangel with a wound in her body
as if the whole thing was planned
I will place a curse on you
something haunting like leprosy would have been
had they not found
it's cure
something reserved for the damned, they say
that thing you must whispered in the shadow of crannies where thin bodies lie
sprawled out straining for air
I would let her carry this in her
and then I will command you to carry her
take her as your wife
and you will learn how much bigger than desire this thing is
how much wider than hunger
he looked at her
lying here on her stomach
on that mattress covered in a white sheet out there on the porch where the
air is cooler
and she dressed in her pink church skirt-suit looking at him, having fed him
given him wanted to drink
warm water for his hands
and he said
I do not deserve her
their name should be Grace
i do not deserve this shelter and I asked her on the timeline do you love me
and she says it is bigger than me and u
and that is all she says.
maybe
a man must always wait to catch the flash of lacking engine
a man must always wait to touch the flesh of an archangel
a man must come to the body of an archangel as to an altar, a man must not let the light her eyes fool him into thinking this is ordinary flesh
a man must wait to marry her properly give her a ring
give her the laughter of a family gathered
a man must do all of these things before he falls prostrate before the body of
an archangel who does not even know if she is divine except in the way a vessle
knows it is set aside for pure water
love is desperate like this
for those who have come away from the cataclysm of dust and stone
those who have
come to know the ending of things
those who live
as if tomorrow is not promised
this is how love is for those cursed with the love
of archangels