Thursday, November 08, 2018

Still. On The Map Of The World

still on the map of the world
or floating off the side
of sidereal enchantments 

blooming on the tides
o my ship of comfits, of the gold wrapped doubloons
of the Christmas counting backwards

and the ancient runes.
o fir tree of the magnitudes
I am holding out

for the fireworks in the evenings
of the banished  doubts
and the red gold shouts

of the angels in marine

and the green blue fishing out
architectures of our dreams
and the hull made out of rubies

and the mast of opaled light
and the journey undertaken
and the Magi's flight

is returning and returning
in a single teardrop life
that refracts the weeping rainbows

and the ships gone down at night.


mary angela douglas 8 november 2018;rev. 30 january 2019