Surfaces

I saw words, their skaters glazing over
the thin crust of the dead moon broken through
I heard the Big Parade when it was over
the dawns without their overcoats ensued.

the city remade. remade, but in no image
I could discern then we let gumballs fall
from the tree in silver ruin and called it a Christmas

and I said look there is beauty still there is
and stilled because the city will forge its will
against the diamond hardship of the few.

the few for the many. let them pay the price
or the many for the few I can't recall the rule
till everything is spoken out of ice

and the press is silence.

but the citizens are nice.
the citizens are nice
and we are dying.

mary angela douglas 12 december 2019