The Serpent Is Dead

Twilight fell onto my

windowsill

 

Demon fire in full

retreat

 

The stars above

glowing pulls on a rug

 

Woven deep into the blackness

I sleep

 

Days grip is unchained

the cantor sings as he prays

 

As St. Michael cries

THE SERPENT UNDONE

 

The sun has now left

though your dreams not bereft

 

Only the night

—points to heaven above

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: April, 2015)

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