Angel of Salamanders

The angel of salamanders
sits on a raft.
The sifts the surface of the water,
his thoughts silent eddies.
He sweeps the air
with his fiery wings.

He flew into the rooms of my childhood
with their bones of dreams
that breathe in my skull.
He carried two salamanders.
The fire from the sun
was on their skin
and the shimmering crystals
from the pond of lilies
grew from their backs
in feathers of light.

They swept around my head
like birds imprisoned in a house,
then hovered over my shoulders.
One knowledge, one wisdom.

I remember the day
I carried salamanders home in a jar
from the iris meadow when I was twelve.
They glowed like caught fireflies,
holding all the light within them
and I thought they were pieces of heaven.

I took them home
and watched their jellied eggs
develop into young.
It was the same year
we learned of father's cancer
blooming in his throat like a blood rose.

The rooms of my childhood
still breathe in my skull,
They soak in the sunlight,
releasing wings,
and their memory becomes clearer
and closer
the more I grow from their garden.

-- Genine Hanns