the poems of the starry wilds who is hunting
who is sharpening the wooden arrow to shoot the golden swan
in any ballet and to leave the stage happy in subterranean stealth
who is happy hunting the beautiful and holding sway
and haltingly trying to say how much they cherish
the written word while inwardly slaying it
softly they have murdered the ruby the emerald escapades
of those anointed for song I know that they do wrong;such
birds with beautiful plummage fell from the skies
of such a moot and muted universe said I.
who killed them?
mary angela douglas 28 january 2022
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