Black Mass at Mulgen Creek – Colleen Duncan
Black Cockatoo Benedictus
Heavy in flight, a fleet of dark forms
hang from the hand of God to
gather high in the bones of bloodwoods
crying a discordant blessing that
falls like rain across the rusting ribbon
of creek, silent in its bed of scars.
With a whirr of wings, air quakes
against the hook of gravity
missiles of feather and might crack
the bowl of sky. Snap, snap – beaks flash,
they open wide the flutes of their throats
A pack of plundering priests
stalk the wind with hosannas
of menace and grace
their grim secret of slaughter
and sacrifice, concealed
in melodious hymns.
Holy, holy, holy.
From hillside roosts, archangels
of darkness navigate a crimson sky
exchange their deadly calls
like talismans, enticing us
to share an awful sacrament
know the true communion of their souls.