the angel is the text
you more or less said in your memoir
and some of us are Jacob when we read
and the night is long the outcome uncertain
if only to pull a single golden bead from it all
and then to string a necklace around The Sun
what is reading but breathing
but only to some
who with braille coding fingers
would read if they could
the snowy face of God
and be consoled.
mary angela douglas 20 march 2020
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