we sent postcards to all the art colonies in the world
all that summer and in our best handwriting
won't you take us in
we've no more money to spend
writing poems on the back of bills again
we cannot pay
I know a little rose way where there are chapels
made of green leaves
I'll make a reservation
we can stay there
each in our folding chair
in chapels side by side
working on something
the parachute silks to be announced
at the grand setting things aloft
earth is too expensive now.
we'll go and live in the clouds
the ones that kept changing you said
pure opal sighed I or was it then I dreamed
everything is beauitful as it seems
because they can't make up their minds.
to be anything but drifting
mary angela douglas 15 july 2018
