Ghazal

With the might of God I clear this altar.
And the bounties of life splatter dumbly from this wasted altar.

The seeds of ripe peaches have no roots to bind souls with,
So long as they teeter far above on the edge of an obstinate altar.

Cornucopia entrails make gluttons out of birds.
Let us clear them away from this violated altar.

Snap white cloths made from beggar’s robes in their place.
Strip the jewels and luxurious shine from this altar.

Demons with selfish eyes— broken from their terrible fall—
Tremble as the morning canticle breaks over stone altars.

The elite Roman deities with their greedy, glazed meats
will dine hungry tonight— choking on sanctified bread at their altars.

I saw the angel Gabriel and I never paused in wonder.
Well, the mighty look much smaller from the dais of an altar.