A new poem which is definitely a first draft. I would like to see any specific criticism on language, tone, etc. I wrote it after seeing Neil Gaiman’s “plot-enhanced” version of Beowulf and thinking about the nice feel that it had to it even though it was such a complete falsehood in terms of telling the wrong story–or at least putting the wrong title on a different story than the one copied down by Bede over a millenium ago.
In the last Judgment, when the
molecules of the dead are
cobbled together from their diffuse graves
I will stand with the thieves,
the adulterers; even the murderers.
When angelic trumpets bray to split
our skulls and tear down every false temple
only the tears from my tribe will
dampen a tamped parade ground.
We will have time to worry at
our fates, our inability to beg forgiveness.
The rapturous, too busy soaring
in their small numbers will face the sky
and hear something only they will hear.
Shuffling at the edge of the blanket
you might call eternity, the rebellion
will consist of at least one escapee:
Demon-turned, manifest to an empty world,
entering the fens, shouting,
both arms still intact.
December 10, 2007