The Shipwreck of Language Said The Talking Dolls

angels bear witness to the last scribe inscribed
not on the heart of the world;sad colours chime
on their own there isn't time when the winds come through

and words speak too without a clue their orphaned syllables floating
in between the worlds of seeing and hearing while feeling feeling
grows mute

all, all said the child in the pale blue shawl standing on tiptoe in the district
all of them have gone said Blake in the afternoon then

I am going too but who will look after you, my only angel, ange

spendrift, spendthrift gold in this lost summer
carry it home carefully said the child to the dolls
with their fine china hearts

breaking, breaking on the seas, those
pavements that are no more.

mary angela douglas 28 july 2018