SLIGHTLY OFF TILT

 

loud in the streets must be the voices of ghosts

to one unaccustomed to the present era

who feels themself to be some distance away

from all on display, to what is current maybe

a little blase

preoccupied with getting back home

home in other decades, zebras in the garden

ladies with parasols standing by waterfalls

when the grass was young and you were picture book small

and you would not take out the days

with the garbage but stayed in them awhile

Eternity's child in cherry cerise

turning the pages like a mild breeze

or reading them all again

making the candy last

stepping through the looking glass

peering through the tissued frontispiece

at a peach tinted view, aqua stained, too

in a book no longer new with such intensity

how you'll live when you're old

if you really want to know, with such immensity

old tieback curtains at the windows

burgundy roses on a cream background

the moon like a saucer of milk

gently spilt

the earth crayoned in

and slightly off tilt,

immured in no crisis;

iced honey buns at really low prices.

mary angela douglas 8 august 2023