for Emilia Kabakova
the ark of our days subsides
upon the jeweled waters
the rainbowed-opaled-haloed around the moon installation appears
over the vanished, the banished years
we floated on time
and we flowered in stintless meadows
at the museums
this gardening never again
subject to solar flares incontrovertible wind
gusts, perfect for light
for once only then this day and this night
each installation, its own constellation
appearing in these summer skies
the infinite reprise
over our quieted imaginations
utter translucence achieved
landing without borders
with no end.
who can say when we will embark
only to start the same dream, again
mary angela douglas 18 july 2023;19 july 2023
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