The Assumption Poem by James Mullaney

The Logos who indwells Isaiah's verse,
maelstrom-mounted yet tender as a man
bends breath to Mary, where his breath began.
Saints on bediamonded psaltries rehearse.
She speaks! 'Gladsome lambs of the universe,
'There never was a gentler command than,
'Avow you each to each a guardian.'
The pliant sky plushes her grand traverse.
And as Mary rises - a rarer sun -
row upon row of adoring angels
blow trumpets, beat timbrels, in promenade.
for he would not cede her to corruption.
As psalmodies rise on oceanous swells
She rises, robed in mauve velvet brocade.