☧ (poem)

☧

(Chi Rho)

The tachyon dances invisible,
mechanical,
faster than light,

to rachmaninov,
an architect of chaos,

through silver, magnetic earbuds,
its morethanlight echoing the heartache
of the young scholar, michael,

who is not the archangel,
who is an unwitting catechumen
because his achilles heel won’t stop

crying for truth,
and who pretends

to study chemical reactions, but who
deep down

understands the dichotomy of science
and human alchemy,

which has run deep in the blood
from adam to zechariah,

who, after all, remembered the lord,
who, in turn, remembered him back,

through angelic chorus, as he did
with enoch’s city and
as he does each time we do or don’t

take the eucharist,
whether literally or metaphorically
consuming the patriarch of all tachyons.