SUPPOSE THAT A POEM CAN BE A TREASURE CHEST

 

suppose that a poem can be a treasure chest

that you find by accident in your own home

or if you are a child, your own room

or even as half a grownup, your own corner

stubbing your toe, big or little one

against its sharp unrounded edge while

at the same time somehow unclicking the lock

and behold the moon under clouds doesnt matter anymore

so many jewels, and antique coins. beads, from the Mardi Gras

tiaras of foreign princesses, and princely cumerbunds spangled  and

topaz hoops and loup de loups

are tangled all up in there with so much resplendence even

the dog who sleeps through ANYTHING is awake and playing with the pick

up sticks in sundry colours

so you catch your breath on a star and read no more by candlelight

because just the sparkliness inherent in the treasure chest poem

is enough to light up whole empires, much less one palace.

so here you are now, peach blossom or persimmon, with your treasure

poem

hope you have fun.

and you wont have to be spinning straw

into anything at all, into the bargain.

mary angela douglas 6 may 2023