the whole day, we were speaking through clouds.
come down came the command
should we comply?
should we believe poetry is about
dissecting the fly, partisan politics on a spree?
oh I will believe in the language of clouds
and in this way, stay free
of all the brawling lies
that would strip the gold from the altarpieces
the ribbon of beauty threaded through language,
snipped, without a cry.
mary angela douglas 11 january 2017
