(for Edgar Allen Poe that he might find rest)
sometimes when I am listening to very ancient tunes
I feel the boat is listing
like ghosts on the moon
or I have half way entered
an old familiar room
when all I feel is distance
is it ghosts on the moon?
o lily of the valley
the pearled bright web of tears
has ornamented all the lawns
of landscapes far and drear
the sky like a cobalt diamond
the ground begins to sing
and heaven is but a misting
and earth an echoing.
since music led me somewhere
I never meant to go
straight through a dahliad garden
into a realm of snow
and I see all the angels;
silks worked on a loom
and I will go on living
just like ghosts on the moon.
mary angela douglas 15 november 2021
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