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By frankiesachs on Tuesday, July 12th, 2011

There are angels behind you.

They live under the ice in the crags and chasms of earth’s memories. They live deeper than Chernobyl, deeper than Krakatoa, deeper than Laki, deeper than Vesuvius. They emerge in the arctic winter when the increments of the day are marked in zodiac hours and the snowfield glitters in the lunar light, a crystal cap on the apex of the world. (Angels cannot bear the fire of the sun; it melts their eyes and they weep emptiness.)

Like dervishes they whirl with abandon across the glaciate sea. And they are so cold, so hard and so cold, that when they trip they shatter and scatter like diamonds and their flesh becomes snow where it falls.

The ice falls away and the angels dance faster as though fervor alone could save the world.

Winter Portrait by fotouczniak via deviantART