the way you thought of things when you were young
with the alphabet blocks at hand rimmed in
rainbow bands the flutaphone whimsy on the bus
or afterwards, unloading at the gates
the sunken ship feeling of homeroom
the locker combination forgotten
the sudden tests in the afternoon
all the paper dreads[
stolen lunch moneyed cacophony
of the cafeterias
and the way the pineapple upside down
cake stuck in your throat.
how glad you were
when the bus turned home
and toward the Christmas side of the year
when there was such a rich respite
that alone could have signalled HOLIDAY
in glisteningsemaphores
at the end of the line
let alone the birth
of the neglected Saviour
who watched over you then.
mary angela douglas 26 july 2017
