Oh Skylark Word In A Prison Of Bones Contained

we have the names of things still

but not their former richness, allusion.

Springs without crocus or rose

Heaven without God.

we have misspent words the words of miscreants

we have counterfeit and not the gold largesse

of words so beautifully careless flung over the stars.

pauses, caesura where we could revive. Selah.

in the kingdoms of previous poetry

when words were still alive and we read them

honey dripping down the day candle wax down

mysterious green bottles

skylark blue and winging

gemstone encrusted how I trusted you oh fairy tale way

letters conveyed with the King's own seal.

barter barter for the green green wave

what have we come to.

codes. hand gestures for

get me out of here

i am a captive. they have laid down my soul

and pitched pennies over it and ground in the dust such garnet

till I am rust and a rusty gate with no hinge.

poetry with a hand held sign

in the back of a speeding junk heap.

tell me why what was silver is now dross

what was blooming is now withered

and the unwatered shoots.

why the word that fell from your lips like pearl

has turned to sludge.

mary angela douglas 2 august 2020

1Mary Angela Douglas