Thursday, December 29, 2016

Shop Window Shopping On Display

the poem alive outside the shop window goodies
piled up high, the little pink cakes, the alibis
for why don't most read poetry anymore

especially not from the Holy Ghost

or why do they call poetry
that which is not
the rooms where moonlight never seeps

all deeps unfathomed.
fathomless it is to me
what poetry has come to be

yet I dream all the gold it ever was
and will not let it go.

mary angela douglas 29 december 2016