in the beginning poetry didn't need protocols.
it was a whisper in the trees.
stars turning over in their sleep.
the fairytale kneaded over night
into a luscious bread
of everything said by the soul
to the Trinity.
and of all colours, I choose these
said even the poor poets
far from home
but listening to the glistening.
and what were they writing then
if it wasn't Poetry?
mary angela douglas 16 march 2016.
P.S. It doesn't need them now, either.