how I wish that I could have translated into one searing valentine
the blurred heart stung obscenities of the man this evening
standing confused in the middle of our hallway with the speech impediment
of thick lava and remorse standing buttersoft and stranded
as if he were at a four way stop where all the stoplights went blind
and I know he was trying to reach Heaven like a black dove
with something childlike in his heart to say why why do they turn away
but he didnt have the words the way
with the marbles in his mouth from birth no way of forming eligible syllables
to reach the angels the citizenry and so I cry but my cry also is a ragged ragged impression
fading away
compared with his sublimity his
childlike cosmic way of turning a mangled phrase his soul- like the orphanhood
of a world within him his words striking my heart like a gong
until finally i could hear no other song.
mary angela douglas 22 april 2021
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