Friday, June 04, 2010

Rewritten

the Blackguard's phone rings on and on
into a strange infinity
but no one's there to take the call.

a Mobius sun stands still-
like the hushed instant before Fatima.
you're not that far from home anymore:

for true friends there's the
Father, Son, the Holy Ghost.

you take your basket from its peg
with its pot of honey-butter, elderberry
jam and rolls; its fine napkin
embroidered with the universe.

your rose-red cape
becomes you so.
and straight out on the

flower-strewn road, this
time-
engulfed by the waiting Shadow of the King-

the muzzled wolf's delayed-

mary angela douglas 4 june 2010

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