pentecost

she perches

cubist angel in white linen

on the edge

of an unfeathered nest

his eyes wide with

the pillars of the universe

the gate open

wet velvet with

raw footage

chaste commentary

extolling the virtues

clean living

the path of excess

the temple before him

sounding the hour

of redemption

she descends

while chains shatter

the core resonates

the stones cry out

and words are carved

lest any forget

come inside

she speaks

in foreign tongues

he enters

without a

pause