Joan Colby- Two Poems

HELLS BELLS

The bells of hell ring a black

Angelus like Lucifer on batwings

Or in vampire regalia driving a sledge

Pulled by werewolves into the

Carpathian universe where the undying

Wring their hands and throw cloaks

Of feathers over the suitable goat

Waiting to be shriven.

They upend the litany

Of mercy. Ringing the changes

Of the Beatitudes, so that the poor

In spirit gnash their teeth like

Rottweilers and the peacemakers

Perform a ritual of  extraordinary

Rendition. Mourners learn grief is

Everlasting as the burning

Of the book of knowledge. And the

Seraphim unhook their fleecy pinions.

STOVE 

 

Rubber gloves and acids

To dissolve and scrape

The leavings of dinners caked

On the black cavern where

Roasts and steaks crusted in

Bloody juices. The wire grids

Corroded with drippings.

Broiler pan dark with old

Flame. Scrub to erase the

Shame of all this evidence:

Satisfied hungers reduced to ash.