Tuesday, November 05, 2013

Midas At The End Of The World In Ornate Translation

delicate, in gold leaf and not yet overgrown
the glistening gardens of the conquistador
and foil on foil the moon in a tissue paper sky

of birthday party blue and slightly glittering,
the children with their party balloons
still twirl and lick the spoons from

the mixer of the amber cake with every 
flavor born at noon, the golden noon by
which he sets his clocks and they are

golden, too, inset with jewels no longer
multi-coloured somehow-
each with a yellow cast like buttercups
and now it is autumn and the yellow leaves

agree with his mood; then, crystal flows on
all the trees and freezes with his heart
that is suddenly seized with the knowledge

that his art is no longer molten and his
only daughter cries out "Father!"
much too late in the play
and turns irrevocably-
(and the whole universe with her)

into rose-gold carved intricately

mary angela douglas 5 november 2013