At the Armenian History Museum
I saw a brass platter that was embossed
to depict the face of a seraph
with three pairs of wings around its head.

In the ranks of angels, I imagine
this one’s voice as an archaic trumpet
made from the very same material 

whose limpid tones mingle well with a choir
but that speaks in a tongue beyond language.
I noticed how this piece did not show
the heavenly being with body or hands – 

a contrast from the flying cherubs
who often appear with the Trinity. 
While the putti’s busy fingers anoint,
play stringed instruments, support His robes,

and part clouds to make way for the spirit,
the seraphim are all hearts ablaze
with the blessed heat of holy announcement.

Though I went there on a dim winter’s day
and the platter had only a soft luster,
I thought of that polished metal in bright sun,
the long-haired visage wreathed with fire.