and for the poet, Paul Roche]
equinox and the orange flares of crayons in the leaves
we stencil drew and cut with blunt ended scissors
at the first cold snap, renewed; she snaps her fingers and
wraps the colours induced by frost
in her own room, using up all the tape.
for the gift wrap's sake be kind and mind
at the white gloved receptions in the afternoon
and let the scarlet maple lose all leaves at once
in a cardinal flash of breeze so that her mind is lost in the
fleetness of beauty past unreckoned on
and the air is cooled and the sunlight glows
with the regrets of her last angels.
the scholars read by candlelight of stars
the coming and waning of kings
but for you, God made the trees
that they could shed ochre tears
that you yourself would ever disappear
while the sardonic teacher read
in the corona of her years
Margaret are you grieving, dead?
before your time?
making enemies in rhyme in every line
this time the competition's clear
and casting your heart before
the unknown God? my dear, my dear,
too young to be mystically inclined.
mary angela douglas march 29 2017