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