I Am Angel, Hear Me Roar

 

I Am Angel, Hear Me Roar

 

 

I am Angel now, so take my hand.

Can you not see a sweet black light?

It dances over our heads, passes

a baton, two relay runners barefoot,

grind up grit, trod hard underneath,

to embed itself deep in skinned soles.

No need to run through closing doors:

Now I am Angel, and hear me roar.

 

Now I’m an Angel to shoulder burdens,

for so long driven into bleeding hands,

nails palmed, your secret aces flushed

on green baize, all wheels all spinning

black on red, twisting fate’s games,

to roll the ball against my revolutions.

No need to cover your face and cry:

I am Angel, now watch me rise.

 

I am Angel now, Wendy, and your life

waits for a day yet to dawn. Scolding:

Scornful cold shoulders; all metal wool,

a panty pad pan scrubber that weeps,

leaking olive oil, yet to boil or sear,

leave roads not taken for roads of fear.

No need to sob, break into grinning,

I am Angel, now hear me singing.

 

Your Angel, Peter Pan am I, an Oberon

that does but beg a little changeling boy,

proud Titania. See soil on your hands,

fingers that do lick sticky seaside rock.

Look, he’s using your hands to wipe grey

charcoal streaks from a barbecue face.

Break not my spells and try recanting,

smile on Angel and kiss his chanting.

 

You were Angel, you held me all thralled,

so long waiting, never calling, crystalline;

while poor girls push rods into rose petals.

Still, my open arms in love outstretched,

bass guitar throbs in dreams unwracked,

Follow me wanton flesh, throb wet spirit:

Look up, here’s Salt Peter, see me soaring,

while I am Angel, come, unite in roaring.

 

I am Angel, from darkness now returned,

to share with you what I have learned,

what we should keep, what must be burned,

your face a blank page that will be turned

and written upon. Strong nib strokes bold,

love’s ink inscribing, heats up what’s cold,

to new from old, from wrongs to rights:

Watch Angel now uprising in glorious flight.