how could I know on the sun flecked path
the one lit by sparklers, occasional peach ice cream
the lacework of trees,
trees and their shadows
you would be the first to disappear,
all music chilled in the castles
chilled and stilled.
the clouds headfirst, cloud horses
into the cirrus seas.
why did I believe
this could not come to pass
while sharing our salt water taffy
silly in our laughter to the last
button that needs buttoning
that we would never lose in a seesaw tilted way
all the looking glass days;
one on Earth remembering, keeping the account
the other in Heaven.trying to forget in a new choir.
supposedly they would have told me
if they had cared, or even enquired after
for the gold of our days.how you were
they never bothered to say
all those non messengers
with their telegrams of snow
non com angels, well I guess so.
their silence like a stepsister dread
futile agencies
like limbs cut off or the phone dead.suddenly.
the brush from the clearing and the legal fees
all squared away.the court appointed and the creditors
hankering after what was left of the play money.
many times before, the houses we lived in
when we were small with the guardian trees became
like colorforms someone shifted around
like dollhouses blown down in a stiff breeze
tiny plastic furniture
in all the wrong rooms
or puzzles with missing game pieces
the feelings you get when the ferris moon
can't be found from your room
and it's all schoolwork again
being misunderstood in the cafeteria
in your plaid dresses
and from a new kitchen when the steam flows from the vents
the scent of scrambled eggs makes you sick.
our rabbit shadows ticking on the wall we never heard.
if only small birds would find me on the path now
bringing a silver word to say
you fled with music;you were not alone.
maybe they will someday.
mary angela douglas 21 june 2018
the one lit by sparklers, occasional peach ice cream
the lacework of trees,
trees and their shadows
you would be the first to disappear,
all music chilled in the castles
chilled and stilled.
the clouds headfirst, cloud horses
into the cirrus seas.
why did I believe
this could not come to pass
while sharing our salt water taffy
silly in our laughter to the last
button that needs buttoning
that we would never lose in a seesaw tilted way
all the looking glass days;
one on Earth remembering, keeping the account
the other in Heaven.trying to forget in a new choir.
supposedly they would have told me
if they had cared, or even enquired after
for the gold of our days.how you were
they never bothered to say
all those non messengers
with their telegrams of snow
non com angels, well I guess so.
their silence like a stepsister dread
futile agencies
like limbs cut off or the phone dead.suddenly.
the brush from the clearing and the legal fees
all squared away.the court appointed and the creditors
hankering after what was left of the play money.
many times before, the houses we lived in
when we were small with the guardian trees became
like colorforms someone shifted around
like dollhouses blown down in a stiff breeze
tiny plastic furniture
in all the wrong rooms
or puzzles with missing game pieces
the feelings you get when the ferris moon
can't be found from your room
and it's all schoolwork again
being misunderstood in the cafeteria
in your plaid dresses
and from a new kitchen when the steam flows from the vents
the scent of scrambled eggs makes you sick.
our rabbit shadows ticking on the wall we never heard.
if only small birds would find me on the path now
bringing a silver word to say
you fled with music;you were not alone.
maybe they will someday.
mary angela douglas 21 june 2018
