Tuesday, August 02, 2016


how many golden ages have we dreamed
and then woken up in factories;
sewing seams in the fairy tales

and then, the strawberries and the cream

too beautiful to consume
and so we don't

find reasons for this

and was there is there
continental drift

in between our sentences

when in one sided conversations
it begins to snow

and the children mouth

what once they could not know
and still can't say, is it from fear?

the golden, the golden

once was here.

mary angela douglas 2 august 2016