Cantor enchants,
sings
old angel midnight cherry
blossomed wings
ricochet off
tangent walls to slats,
off the slant shift silk of wings
that whisper down vaulted hallways,
down blind alleys underneath;
find salvation in a lisp, a slip
of comfort into transubstantiated things,
penny taken nearer their gospel than thee.
Altar visions alter vistas spun
beyond the stark woven thread,
brush arcade mysteries, arcane touch
nave to navel and bending,
rediscover
sacraments,
her covenanted scent,
wings folded serenely
over
his feet.
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