[to my grandmother for the times we all watched the Wizard of Oz.]
I can't reach the cellar door
the storm's coming in so fast
the trees I played under
yesterday
can't last
and the side-yard chickens fly up to
the stars, still squawking
that I forgot to feed them
there is no shade.
but it can't be in vain
you stood in the shattered doorway
calling my childhood name
through a vortex of dust and
fleur-de-lis stars too suddenly turned out-
even when I couldn't hear you anymore.
mary angela douglas 20 october 2007/rev. 6 february 2010
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