Tony Bush Poet Blank verse

Gabriel's Tears

The real angel wept at 
his impostor's grave audacity, 
and sepulchre clouds gave deluge birth 
  to the acid of his eyes. 
The downpour teemed relentless, 
punishing soil and battered leaves, 
drilling earthworms in their coffins 
  to consume what therein lies. 
Then the monuments gave voice 
to his anguish gaping mouthed, 
forged of marble, moss and lichen 
  as vines in each crevice crept. 
He bowed beaten by 
her poetry, the Spanish of her smiles, 
and the sharp yet sleepy beauty 
  of her soul windows whilst she slept. 
The real angel wept 
and in his weeping did acknowledge 
that this goddess he revered 
  was to him both Heaven and Hell. 
He discharged lightning forks of prayers 
in the hope she would conduct them, 
and in electrified accord 
  feel the same for him as well.

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