I see an angel. Doves fly from her armpits
In ordered droves, each carrying a dented rose
By its stem. On her head balances a spaghetti
Colander of sorts, holes resting in the strange
Mosaic shadows of each wing.
Shame her dress isn't dropped over her head.
She's upside-down you see, or her wings
Would be around her feet. Where the lions are.
They seem a bit too tame actually, fragmented
Heads resting on their borrowed shields.
She looks tired. Probably went out last night.
Drinking wine. Eating manna.
She stands straight though. For the camera.
A man's strange memorial to his wife. A Russian angel,
In Germany, viewed with an English girl's eyes.
Based on the 'Mosaic im Hochzeitsturm' by Friedrich Wilhelm Kleukens.
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