Saturday, November 12, 2022

AND THE RIVER TOO

collapsing the towers within myself

I swallowed the bitter ground

the pink and blue crenellations

the sudden upsurge of larks

the varicoloured clouds, in their flight.

and teakettle mornings.

they say villagers in some cases

slated to be captive. stayed up all night

changing their folkloric homes to mist

the little green gates

consigning the grain to stubble

swallowing both riverbank and meadow;

finally the river too.

that the marauders should have

no place to settle

not even air to breathe;

the fable of the pancake

rolling away.


mary angela douglas 12 november 2022;11 februaey 2023


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