August is the Cruellest Month

Modern poetry modern verse contemporary poetry contemporary verse modern poem contemporary poem

“And the angel departed”  Luke 1:38

The morning of that life begins in dark

Of Friday’s night, of Sabbath evening.  Long,

That season opens wider than a shark

Mouth, though he cannot know that.  Strength more strong

Grows large like Homer’s epic similes

And like the Iliad itself. The raised

Up wrists like glossolalia will seize

Him like the teeth of Great White ones.  The praised

God, God of evening’s worship, disappears

As fast as Gabriel from Mary.  Rest

Is dead forever.  Absalom has speared

Him in the tree of love, right through his chest.

  The dawning of the era is not calm.

    It comes more like wide radiation’s bomb.