the actors passed on.
this is a feeling of
lingering this long on Earth:
everything tilts away from you,
some of the stage sets get repainted, fixed.
and you still have vintage pictures, trunks.
the odds and ends of kiosk scarves,
program notes, the boutique beaded.
you could go back to the old house
or one of them if you needed
at least to pass by
but not with the same neighbors;
not even the same sun's slant on the carpet.
the same geraniums.
the t.v. that flickered when it rained.
some of the trees are gone.
only the clouds seem the same.
but they were always drifting
even when you first came.
mary angela douglas 9 july 2015;10 march 2016