p r e m o n i t i o n   a t   d a w n

:  m i c h a e l   k.  g a u s e

It begins with a climax of Angels
Filling my head
Like a savage warehouse converted by God

The crates stacked in the dust
Believe themselves to be altars
Broken windows half-reflect
On the ascent of our saviors

But I decide to opt out
Become the music instead
A pagan arabesque that forgoes
The transience of flesh
The fate of the Church

And Madonna cut in pieces
For the rich rich world

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