pharisee's head

once, twice. the crow had not sounded  yet
over his blackened shoulder our eyes meet
for an ample second. turning, forward is
his choice. the bird alights from
the pharisee’s head, the stone loose.

the first full moon after the march equinox

a fire within and behind the clouds
growing, glowing, going a western way
out of its horizon-hidden heaven.

archangels upon the face of the waters
marching on unsealed orders;
the inferno of unholy fusion,
rays of teeth, mouth of flame;

gaze, wonder, at that light unknown.
and let no caution, no worry
trap that gasp in your throat,
as you see the moon tonight
shining like the sun. looking upon His course,
the Bridegroom rises from His tent.

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