(February 5,1951 / Little Rock, Arkansas United States of America)

You Imagine Yourself On Dry Land Sometimes

you imagine yourself on dry land sometimes
at least at the picnics under the trees
the pink cake glowing and the little sandwiches

and no disease, no sudden arguments out of nowhere
hurt the breeze, the idyll there.
you imagine yourself free as air

for that moment and think there can be
another moment, and another that gleams
stitch it down and then embroider it, please

and this is Time then as it should be
and you string the gem bedight minutes together

and wear them as a necklace
in the workaday world ah but Cinderella
they will break the pearls and scatter them

and they will roll under the radiator
in your apartment under the colorful the disorderly shelves
and then,

where is your wishing well then our princess
caw all the crows.
you will go to the window in a fragile state

blinking back tears when a something says
all glimmery, Wait oh daughter of new distresses
multiple years

then from the clouds God releases His laceworks again

and there they are shining all over the lawn
and you feel crowned and overawed
all at the same time

and as if your dress is silken suddenly blooming
with all the flowers
and you will put by the blundering hours

and feel this is not the end turn the page
there are further Wonders...

mary angela douglas 11 april 2016

by Mary Angela Douglas

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