It's Watercolour

it's watercolour
and it's faded, fading away
we say in our wash dresses appliqued,

speaking of the day, the afternoon and
looking at our hands
as if they weren't ours at all.

I'm very small
the words I say fall off a shelf
or are held in the hand like snow

till the wind lifts them away
it's watercoloured they say
and look straight through

my transparencies.

if I were a window I would be a rose one
shedding amethysts on the floor
when faded persons would come to pray

lighting candles in a ghostlike way
and light would have utterance there
and not despair

but I am watercoloured too
you cannot depend on me for that
I am no enterprise

but faded, fading away
as much as I deplore it
before you realize oh

something was there
it isn't anymore.

mary angela douglas 14 december 2017