The Lady of Shalott

(for Alfred Lord Tennyson)

space curves back into her embroidery
so that she sees only the work before her
and nothing directly

everything at a slant
or within a thousand veils
or mirrors refracting

shining and shining

and this is art

and where her heart must rest.
and if she strays it will be only into distress
and not the wooded path

bedecked in flowers she imagines
or time filled to the brim with charming hours
but she mistakes

one day distracted is enough to die on
the outward view for the inner
and the path of doom sets in;

the lady floating now between two worlds
receives from Lancelot merely a passing glance
a phrase in the minor key askance

she has a lovely face he muses for a little space
wedded as he is to surface as she was to depth;
irreconcilable! oh beyond mead!

she floats on a river of glass that's breaking now
oblivious toward comprehending Mercy
through Eternities.

mary angela douglas 27 december 2019