Orange Jelly Candy

do we slosh around in this teacup globe
all our land masses somehow adrift
on which we stand

or fold
or collapse on hillsides amid the flowers for a little while
nntil we are told to move on.

where shall we move where there are smiles.
we have no rockets
barely a cart to contain what keeps us alive

ever moving on the fragrant horizon.
spotted by citizens from every side.
who would call us quixotic

they only hurl bad names.

yet they are proud of this language
which distinguishes those who have managed to keep afloat
from those who somehow cannot drown,
landlocked as they are.

lasting from corner to corner in the maps where the angels
breathe the winds
where sometimes if we drift asleep

we dream of mama and orange jelly candy.

mary angla douglas 11 april 2020