Among the Angelic Orders
by Alicia Cole
In the garden, the angel brandished
a sword, burnished as your mouth
in the dusk; he stood at the gates,
his palm cupping an orange. Citrus,
sphere peeled back - the order of angels,
concentric circles, migrating layers
of shared space, jute-chords tied, body
of light to flaming light.
In the dark, undressing, a peeling
all its own. Name the planes: chest,
shoulder, thigh. Name the kneeling
space sacred. My hand tied to yours,
ring-bound, bright; holy places
shining between our teeth.
Alicia Cole, a writer and educator, lives in Lawrenceville, GA, with her photographer husband, their cat Hatshepsut, and two schools of fish. Her poetry may be found or is forthcoming in Asimov's, Strange Horizons, Goblin Fruit, Ideomancer, and Mythic Delirium. She muses on writing and life at three-magpies.livejournal.com.
What inspires you to write and keep writing?
I wrote my first poem in second grade. I took longer than the rest of the class, so I remember standing in the hall by some windows, the light streaming in while I finished my work. When I returned, my teacher could not believe I had written such a long poem.
I continue to write in this vein. To prove myself to myself, and disprove all those doubters who say, "You didn't, you can't." I most assuredly do and I most assuredly can.