The number of men and women who have deep-seated
homosexual tendencies is not negligible. They do
not choose their homosexual condition; for most of
them it is a trial.
-Catechism of the Catholic Church
So in the angel then there is a natural willing
love. Such natural love is never wrong, since it
is a tendency imposed by the author of nature.
-St. Thomas Aquinas, Summa Theologiae
Gabriel and Michaela startle me
when their eyes blaze. I believe
they have been sent
into my well ordered life
to confuse and trouble me,
to render pedestrian the food I eat,
the clothes I wear, the music I play,
the plants in my garden,
the comfortable arrangement of my settled house.
When Gabriel’s eyes blaze
I am overcome by an urge to hide.
Once at an island airport
when two men
in matching tropical shirts
held hands in the immigration line,
his eyelids began to flutter,
his smooth skin flashed,
and he warbled
in a voice I’ve never heard,
“My god, look at the peacocks!”
And then Michaela
at the flea market in Tubingen
whispered in a voice too loud
about the proud ass
of the blond woman
we’d been following all morning,
how she wanted to French kiss her,
what she could do with her
on a cool, rainy night
after a bath, candlelight
and two glasses of champagne.
When their eyes blaze
they become spirits
different than my two old friends,
brightened with a knowledge
I only sometimes touch,
full of the wisdom of colors
and the secrets of flowers,
lithe with the limitless configurations
of the human body, keepers
of flute and harp,
of keys to the hall of mirrors,
of the witchcraft of words.
On Sunday afteroons in the park
where they are called in summer
to laugh and dance
with others of their kind,
hand in hand they circle
the dark vortex of their hallowed love,
and nearby a hummingbird
hanging over the bouganvilla
quivers in communion
with the guardians of the light.