PIERO DELLA FRANCESCA'S ANGEL Poem by Peter Semolič

He is no longer the bringer
of light.

He himself has become the object
of the play
of light
and shadow.

Caught within the laws
of the material world,
he kneels like someone
asking for forgiveness.

Getting up
would probably
make him slightly
dizzy.

His robe wrinkles
around the waist,
girded with a rope,
and around his knees.

His wings are heavy,
almost fleshy.

As though he were ashamed
of the fall
into the realm of sensation
and architecture,

he firmly kneels
on the cold marble floor
keeping his face
in shadow.


Lavrica, September/October 1992