subsiding in the crystal wave,
the mermaid turns of phrasing
let us renounce
while we still can
the plated words, the minimal things to say
that wear off quickly and betray-
while the heart's
own music is buried.
oh when
will the jeweled cathedral
rise
from the lake of mere forgetfulness;
the sword be taken back
from the glistening hand-
and who told you
the prospering word,
laconic
day was gold-
and a necessary armour?
mary angela douglas 3 september 2011
