ONCE MORE, WITH FEELING UPON THE TIMPANI OF SPRING
A dimming music fills the space
And language shows another face
Than what counts for accustomed speech
These days
We know the stars were out of reach
Now that we reach them
What do we feel
Dead rock inside, a little haze
Or barely languor, technocrazed
Where once was light
The ignominy of flight
From what was cherished
In our inner life, and mother of pearl
poetic delight abandoned. epic fail.
Trajectories will fail to show
What made the stars look so like snow
That’s fixed forever in the skies
Beyond the science of disguise.
mary angela douglas 13 may 2024
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