Nor Be The Gold Flounder

NOR BE THE GOLD FLOUNDER

(a very roundabout, off the trolley riff on a disquieting old legend from Quebec, with a generous sprinkling of other legends thrown in as well)

dark mirrors I will not reflect on you

nor find my reverse image burned in on the negative of the Sun, the Son

nor see my thumbnail tiny image in your vu finder overcome

sans the Disneyland

castles, pink clouds, the Springtide pianos and violins I loved

when laden with lilacs and their bright aftermaths.

keep your thunder claps your morose lightnings lurking tongues aplenty, skeletal horseman with no heart and impeccable gloves

your silver nitrate landscapes I am no part of you ,

you will not brand me your brand

nor castle the queen on the scorched the checkerboard earth

on which I stand, dreaming the dream of the flowers, nonetheless.

too long have I been scavenged by you oh aquamarine squint eyed squid,

ghost of a mariner sailing machine

near the wells that give forth no light

even in moonlight you revenant

of deserted courtyards

you the stolid derricks of iniquity, disquiet

you have pumped out your last and rasped in your

raspberry voice at the last repast

I will not rsvp for the balls held in your honor

oh ye eclipses of the sun the moon and the star showers left of

my imperiled quietude: the sole, lean word I keep for you is

depart you finaglers, caramel corn connivers and dissatisfied strivers

who will shrive YOU?

twisters of the grand mal prairie on the way to unfettered no man's land, no man's land listen mister in your frock coat with the razzle dazzle butttons, button it.

Resolute, I will not weep I will not reap your whirlwinds nor sop in your rations as though I had no recourse from Heaven.

or no mother.

inflate yourselves and purr yourselves to sleep pour your own cream you sizzling griddled cats

you parade balloons sifting the childrens' sugar candies you thieves.

I will not rest in the vacuity of the sorrowful the surcharged deeps of your Junes from which

you think to fish me out.

nor be the gold flounder on your kitchen table to furnish forth your Christmas.

mary angela douglas 30 july, 2021