[to Emily Dickinson]
waving from the dock this time
where no ships ever come
I fold my handkerchief into
a sudden snowflake
or a single tear mislaid-
forbidding winter's music...
sew poems like stars.
then let the darkness come.
can you hear
the ghost ships surging
in an apple wind?
I can
see clouds like lapidary ships descending
through a
fifth-floor window descant
mary angela douglas 2 august 2010
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