Early morning-Florence

the angel raised his head
sucked in rain
and framed in an archway unfurled his wings
shattered morning with his cries
and light from his eyes
burned deep into stone souls
wakened the dead
on walls
in tombs and wombs in catacombs
and the rooms of smart hotels

then hanging from an umbrella
came billowing down the street
a lady from Nebraska
laid Euros at his feet