Thursday, May 12, 2016

The Glorious Salvage

the messages left by wandering strangers
under rocks the storm turned over
the letters you sent into space

that never returned
the unopened valentines unearned
somewhere there is a post office

for God's neglected children
with brightly foiled on cardstock cards
keys without locks

embossed invitations
to all the weddings

illuminated silk-screened

the tick and the tock of birthdays acknowledged
well into the gloom of descending age
the Christmas letters packed like fruitcake

full of delicious crumbs of this and that
and citron glowing and the green cherries mystifying
sugared pineapple.

Somewhere everything sent is acknowledged
somewhere everything received is complete
somewhere the handwriting is neat

in letters that swoop like sea birds
in graceful curves on floral stationary-
with something jeweled in their beaks;

from all the shipwrecks,
the glorious salvage

mary angela douglas 12 may 2016;rev, 20 june 2017