and the myriads who danced in the ruins rule.
and day followed subterranean day
when evil was praised unstintingly
and we were counted fools.
I saw the flowering of stars ripped from the page
and from the stage declaimed ,
the lies that foment the midnight soul and roil
with the old distresses parlayed new
and bought and sold
and beauty mute and all her verses
on the floor of the world half buried under no moon at all.
soon may the coral rise around their enterprise
the Floods come through
and swallow up the baiting tongue
the ironclad rule of wanton ecstatic abuse
where children lose at Forever as if
at marbles on a simple day and this is
called coming of age, the tainted rains,
the cult of the few, superiorly trained.
my God in his rage refurbish us anew
though we are wounded through-
that we may rebuild her towers.
oh Beauty- lost, disconsolate!
amid the decimated hours.
mary angela douglas 18 november 2016