DIES ILLA

 An ekphrasis on Dino Valls’ DIES IRAE, online at

http://www.dinovalls.com/en/gallery/5/ [Warning: artistic nudity]

An unusual apocalypse:

The seals of this Beatus start

With the white bow of a

Body seized by grand mal

Then a rose-mounted knight

Whose sword steals peace

Before the hunger game

Of Bergen-Belsen. Can you

Outplay the Reaper? Shāh Māt –

The damsel is dead, her

Head robed in white.

Kohl dims the sun while

Red waxes lips and bloodies the moon;

Trumps tear and stars fall

As the scroll is rolled.

Woe! Woe! Woe! sound the

Trumpets of heaven,

Warning those of the body;

Balm sours in its Delft jar

As Wormwood falls.

Awaiting Abaddon

Locusts form lines.

A sinister censer shines;

Woe unto her who is with child

In the shadow of dragon, beast and whore

Ten horns rise on seven heads –

Decline and fall.

The saved are counted, the harvest home;

Vials shatter, raise the shout

Ich bin der Zorn Gottes!

The captive serpent speaks my mind

Though locked away, he has her ear:

      Unwilling daughter, fight the tears

      You cannot alter what must be;

      You have no kingdom

      No power or glory

      But yours is the look

      And behind it

      The key.