Revelation
(nourished for a time,
and times and half a time)
You use to not be real
so I thought you an angel—
a lumbering archangel warmonger
scoring through life with the lean slash
of a sword.
When you put your laundry out—
it is a banner brandished.
When you open your mouth—
it is a bugle sounding out the beginning of day.
But now I see all this untainted loyalty
in the marks you make
and how your treaty
is a shield-embrace of all things unheavenly,
your hand rubbing
down my back, caving me, settling
me into this earth.
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