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Leo's
          Palace


Josef Hurtubise


angel wings

          angel wings
          and petals
          rose coloured with sunset
          the stars
          and moon
          waiting
          to slip into her eyes
          like thought
          or instruction
          this is the way
          the universe turns
          not the machine
          rotating gears
          and planets
          in eliptical orbit
          but angel wings
          and petals
          rose coloured
          the moon
          the stars
          her eyes
 
 
 
 

          hook eyes

          she catches offenders
          with hook eyes
          no lures
          only time as bait
          reels them in
          to be filleted
          before cooking
          her words
          heavy
          with vinegar
          and baking soda
          very antidote
          she demonstrates
          her ways with flour
          and butter
          smiles crookedly
          at the uninterested faces
          gathered about her
          and
          separates eggs
          white from yolk
          like the red sea
          but these will not cross over
          and she is left
          alone
          on the far side
 
 

 it is spring

          it is spring
          you walk upon the earth once more
          the taste of pomegranate seed
          still haunts your tongue
          from the dark realm to our world
          you come to open doors to summer
          make this world a vestibule filled with spring flowers
          to ease the memories of ice just passed
          the cold that gripped our bodies
          as the dark that shall grip our souls
          in a winter without end
          but now it is spring
          and where the softness of your feet touches the hard earth
          there are flowers

          for the space of this season
          you bear the hope and promise of all the world
          bring colour and verdure to winter's cold house
          but at the end
          you must return to shadowlands
          as the earth passes from the fullness of summer
          and in the dark halls of aidoneus
          your soft tread can be heard above the whispers of the shades
          for they are still then
          straining to hear the movement of spring grasses
          in the rustle of your robes
          to catch the sweet breat of flowers
          in the air stirred by your passage.
 
 

all poetry on this page is © Josef Hurtubise.  No poem may be used in whole or in part without the expressed written permission of the poet.
 
 

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