Exiles' Poem: "The Wings"

One of my first romantic poems I wrote as a Freshman/Sophomore in college, finally published in 2013.

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This work was published in the Spring 2013 issue of The Lost Country. However, this version is slightly updated and altered from the 2013 issue You may purchase a copy of the original journal issue the Exiles’ website here or, if you prefer, from Amazon.

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The Wings

by Tyler Morrison

An angelic vision, but is it false?

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She looks as though she’s wearing wings;
They’re folded neatly beneath her coat.

And I have sometimes wondered
While stepping out to smoke,
If a gentleman bravely offered
To hang that somber cloak,
Would they spring, and would she float?

Or would they, could she, fall,
As fell one gorgeous cherub?
A lovely color, pale and shorn
Of tatters, white-resplendent?

Oh, Autumn has scattered its leafy feathers…
And the Prince of the Air 
Once boasted such glories,
Molted, though soaring, 
The buzzard-bird holds
His oldest, dreadful vanities.

Of such sad things Ezekiel wrote.

Perhaps instead the wings would shatter,
As laughter bursts from a drunk man’s throat.

There they would lie,
Like shards of soft-clouded sky,
A puzzle-piece window for novice and abbot
To ponder, at which to wonder,
A brand new icon in blood-stained glass…

—But I broach the skirt. I won’t trespass.
Janus falters, the threshold looms,
Doorknobs groan, and hinges moan.

But here, for me, for now at least,
The long-veilèd Mysteries will last.

Jupiter, Father, gravely thundered,
“Stay farther and far from her:
AWAY!”

Stay just behind the curtain, I say.

I’ll keep my eyes on the mud-strewn earth,
And hands in my pockets and shoes on the turf.

Let pill-bugs roll along the grass,
And worms to burrow earth and dirt!

I leave Heaven and Heaven’s beatae above
To better, Italian poets.
For Dante wishes, and, 
Oh, I wished, but could not see
An angel’s face in a pretty young lass.

And if Fortune smiles again tonight,
If perchance she comes to stay and dine,
Then I shall take her coat and all
And hang it next to mine—

But I’ll not look to see the Wings.

Preserve Beauty with Modesty & Manners

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Tyler Morrison , in 2012, became the last graduate of the College of Saint Thomas More. In addition to his poetry, he is currently writing his first novel, a podcast, and a play.

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