Friday, September 16, 2016

The Letter You Write To The End Of The World

the letter you write to the end of the world:
let it be painted in gold
on the eyelash of a second

or carved in pink marble
as upon an april sky;
or in silver pointed flame,

not ever to die,
in colours of rain,
yet not be washed away.

or threaded through Christmas Eve

the first time you believed on earth,
in tinsel typography sparkling and sparkling;
collapsing the parabolas of the soul

when it wept moonlight, vanishing, remember?
O to resemble the toy most loved in childhood
with its rainbow rings so self-contained

or with little bells attached that someone
may be made merry.
or let it taste like cherries on pineapple sundaes

especially, if on a Monday, it becomes necessary
to not show up for work; let us all shirk then
with the angels the perfunctory, facing the sea surge,

mystically brave:the last of the strawberrie sugared;

breaking out new parasols for the occasion
leaving our antiphons half unfinished or sending it:
the soul, the letter, the recipe on ahead of us

wrapped in a silken envelope to sail
above all destined gales into the
milk pearl galaxies like the necklace

mama wore once, all blue summer long,
turning to stars
above the lawns of God.

mary angela douglas 3 september 2016