DROWNING HAPPY

 

I dreamed of colours

falling through my hands of

signs and symbols

radiant beyond description

and fruit sailed to the ground in

clear profusion

in a wind of sparkles

puffed out by the angels in four-cornered maps.

where are the gatherers gathering

I cried

outside the fate of the sports arena or

the charming cafe with its pale pastries, 

light as angel's breath beyond frosted glass-

doing brisk business

I couldn't afford.

Beauty's trapped like the princess

in the tower

I remarked to no one caring-

-where? 

in the tower of the

perishing imaginations

-So? 

then who'll be there

to take the last stitch under

so the ruby strawberry

stands out against its

field of matchless snow

in Desdemona's handkerchief? 

the painter deprived of light

the poet without music

carried on anyway-

in every camp in every secret cell

in every annex under the vari-coloured

stumping boots of history's trolls

and landlords-

or under the nose of nosy neighbors

taking notes

jabbing their heirloom pin-cushions full

with the sharp-pin question, 'Why? '

and stirring their coffee-clatch sugared coffee

a little harder

than was necessary.

but theirs was not my question -

mine was 'how? '

and I died happy

on a lilliputian sword

run through with the rainbow riddle

of it all: 

they built their ships of unearthly gold

for others to sail-

even while going down

for the third time-

mary angela douglas 12 july 2010