Negative Space

If a crow is the negative space
where an angel has just been
(not the shadow, as angels cast none)
then one would suppose the ravens
to be the sudden absence of seraphim,
(all this, of course, on the bold assumption
that angelic logic follows mine)
― a blackbird, then, an incognito angel-ette ―
and all their shadows (if they have them)
an ironic cousin, a holy darkness once removed,
a gap in a formerly sacred ray of light,
perhaps the most real holiness
one will ever find on this mottled, turning earth ―
and, finally, the long black wings
of a condor, two miles above my upraised face,
might just be the recent location
of the Holy Spirit himself.