I Am Going Away Where Words Are Not Arguments

I am going away where words are not arguments
where they fall softly from the tree of language
and it is moonlight and you are in your secret house

near a window and off to the side you see
it is either petals or snowflakes falling from
the skies, the cloud trees scudding through the

evening and you are as solitary
as the one star that will not forsake you there
if they twinkle they are planets someone says

but the fragment fades, the last photo in the album
and it is tied to your heart the whole thing as if
you were a kite

and you float over all the arguments the broken china
the recriminations in your red shoes the ones from the fairytale
but you did not lie to get them and so they are rose red slippers

and you fly and the rooftops know you but say nothing
knowing you are in need of rest and you are part of this
the petals the snowflakes falling from the moon

and the starlight covering you from head to foot
in clean silver.

mary angela douglas 16 april 2016