Carrying His Thunderbolts

by Thomas McAteer


By their lanterns you see them,
When in autumn they gather,
For worship they come, each with
A pail full of flames. Beta,
Alpha and Epsilon take

Up posture on the Great Square,
Each tribe tinted red, white or
Yellow. A body unfolds,
The gala of Pegasus
Comes to order. The vapor

Lamps above electrify
The binoculars. A white
Silver streak flickers with each
Step that I bounce through. On this
Night path, towards gray trees that lift

The black of Her skin as it
Stretches out over the north
Hemisphere, I survey an
Otherwise starless sky. A
Gold bridle of galaxies

Spin in slow motion -- daylight
Gasps for breath as hooves pound down
The horizon. The storm
Peppers my jacket with an
Insignificant mist while

The crack of thunder pursues
Bolts in the distance. Serving
Zeus well, keeping his missiles,
Earning repute even as
Chimera’s fire went out.

As the celebration slows,
Giving way to clouds rolling
Across my vision, your light
Lets loose its magnitude. The
Crowds begin their exodus.


Copyright © 2003, Thomas McAteer
Pegasus

Pegasus
by Johannes Hevelius


Thomas McAteer, musician and poet, studied Liberal Arts at West Chester University, while also satisfying his love for art at the University of the Arts, Philadelphia. He has performed at venues throughout the northeast, sharing the stage with musical acts as well as authors including Iain Levison, The Alfred James Band, and The Wayward Wind. Currently working on a collection of poems and an album, Thomas resides with his wife in Philadelphia, his home for the last 13 years.

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Image courtesy of Istituto di Fisica Generale Applicata, Università degli Studi di Milano