Przemysław Gintrowski - Przesłuchanie anioła

When he stands before them in the shadow of suspicion
he is still entirely made of the substance of light
The eons of his hair are tied
in a lock of innocence
After the first question, his cheeks become flushed with blood,
the tools and interrogation distribute the blood

With iron, cane, slow fire
they define the boundaries of his body
A blow on the back reinforces the spine
between the puddle and the cloud
After several nights the work is finished
The angel's leather throat is full of sticky compromise

And how beautiful is the moment when he falls on his knees
embodied in guilt, saturated with content
And the tongue wavers between knocked-out teeth
And confession
They hang him upside down

Drops of wax drip from the angel's hair
And create on the floor a simple prophecy