Queen Of Heaven Poem by Shannon Walker

I motioned for a strange pair of hands
To spread their granite wings,
Frosty hands from an old picture,
And waited
Against the backdrop of space
For a rupture
In that black veil.
For of Gods and Angels,
And their designs,
I know nothing
Except that for which I, myself, have made holy,
And lifted up on high,
Under a blanched moon.
So tell me
How does it feel
To be deified,
Seated among the Gods,
You feet shod with the stars,
And the Earth as your footstool,
My dearest, my love,
My emerald jewel?