We Were Sailing Broken Ships

we were sailing broken ships

under a sky of glass

you could have been undone

by even the slightest meteor

yet, dear mariner, you weren't

and I kept your opalescence

like the secret of a star

whenever I was forced to move

over marred seas.

under a cuticle moon

of scant gold.

standing stock-still

by orphaned sails

I tried so hard to remember

former marvels

twirling in vain the locker's rusted combination

oblivious to the wild

and iris wave

poured out unmistakably

in the long dream before

embarking

mary angela douglas 8 february 2008