ANIOLY KARTY DO GRY
(Angels Playing Cards)
There is too much light
In the room for anything irreconcilable
To happen. It will be recorded
Inside the caves, on the battlefields,
Across the purple moors and darker prairies.
The cards are flipped down upon
The table, voiceless like generations
Forced to speak to each other
Through the dark
Doors of time.
For each card is unforgiven, unforeseen
With traces in its skin of the stillness
Before birth, The Ascent of Mount Carmel,
The Olympian crucifix with its living
Christus smelling like wars and collapse
Through fire of great empires.
There is no betting at all. All blows away,
Just the open-mouthed angels constantly
Surprised at how the cards fall
As if by chance.
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