St. Peter Sonnet

So, even though I told myself (and others) that I wouldn't do this, I'm going to post one of my own poems...before anyone accuses me of self-promotion, let me immediately reply....guilty. Yeah, well, laziness has a lot to do with it too. This poem is one of what hopefully will be a sonnet sequence, each sonnet detailing a moment of grace in the life of a saint. So far I have two, this one and St. Sebastian.

St. Peter

There came an eerie tingle to his feet,
As gravity tried its strength against the beat
Of blood within his aged impetuous breast.
His robe revealed him, and his lanky beard
And hair, absurd about him, like a crest,
Shone, light transparent, and the soldiers jeered.
The pillar found its deep, predestined slot,
Plunged down a meter, jolted now erect,
The wrist-and-ankle-strangling cords stretched taut;
The silent crowd heard the joints disconnect,
And turned aside their reverend conscious eyes,
As not to see the wracked face turning red,
And therefore missed him smiling with surprise,
To see the fallen world put on its head.