When Words Were Lined With Roses

when words were lined with roses I was happy
when emeralds spoke to me from dreams and became the ballets
Balanchine was famous for, scores full of jewels

the bouquets heaped onstage

when the clocks were empty as snow, on the bell towers
when the bells rang it was Christmas every hour
and in all my clauses on blue lined paper, snow was imminent.

you may think a thumbprint on a wall is not a work of art
but all things are beloved of children when they are small
except for the ones so poorly guarded by their angels.

we could speak in diamonds if we chose to
why do we speak in nails
and make of the earth a sad sad jail

why dont we ban the word eviction
all cliques notwithstanding
and remember how we wanted to be gipsies

when we grew up.

mary angela douglas 26 march 2020