Saboteurs

to those who go around blowing up bridges because

maybe they've seen too many war movies

and want to hear the sound of things falling apart

the screech of brakes on the train

well what words can be said.

get a better hobby?

the bridge will hold.

the trestle too.

it was all made of clouds anyway.

clouds disperse.

something that floating can't be wounded.

it must be good to be clouds.

to be the reflections in the water.

we will stand there a moment

counting the water lilies in the painting

melting into their colours as if we were rippling rain.

now I am violet

now I am pale green. the dark iris smudge of ink.

now I am far from the simulated wars

and saboteurs

the golden rattle of peaches

the winesap bruising of apples in unnatural windfall

in the orchards of beauty in extremity

o my soul.

mary angela douglas 13 october 2020