imagined fresco of Giotto at Assisi:
fioretti of the hidden stars who has
washed you into my heart
that the blue and the gold of you
should not be turned away
from the fine fair fairytale doorstep
swept clean of sorrows.
for all the fairytales are truth
down to the least and finishing detail.
This I learned to say.
let the debris of exile,
castaway, on a ship of no devising
be only the ghost ship sailing away from you,
Beauty in exile,
swan after Christ!
flying through the picture book
picture window with utter transparency
fioretti fioretti I murmured to
children sleeping
to the ghost of their tears
in the curve of your canticle, moonlight;
Your broken silver candlestick still not quenched
though many have thought otherwise:
stringing their Mays like pink pearls
little crystals together and
forgetting the Jeweler.
mary angela douglas 16 february 2014;8 november 2023
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