Knights Come Home Poem by Joseph Narusiewicz

They rise like slow feasting eagles
Every sea knows the bondage
Walls are hidden light
Fellini laughs like a feast
The prisoner is a collector
He has no angel
It's horrible to die with shrunken heads
They prayed on the Titanic
Cry on the glass of St Ann
Leave the river stones of the Volga
Buried by the Black Sea
Kings tremble before vial hordes

Greek ashes devoured by dragons
No war of Athena rests on silk
Islands made of spells
Gold from the Crusades
We enter into the realm of souls
Angels fighting dark holes
The wind blows like warriors
Put away the Book of Enoch
Sleep in the chains of red Calypso
Scratches in the scathed chivalry
Sirens sing like ghost birds
All the shed blood dances

The Knights come home