THINGS HAVE FALLEN (IN COUNTERPOINT, TO NOTRE DAME IN FLAMES)

things have fallen off a table

and landed where there are pears,

apples

burnished in gold, all rolled away

where we are told odd fables over breakfast

and midas cornered,

the mice pattern fine cloth

allotted the miracle

of a spot of jam

a fallen crumb untouched, not turned to gold.

do I hear singing from the attic,

remotely view

the girl in the pier glass cracked

in the chanson

where the rubies gush through the spires

of the light allotted her

where bluebirds fetched

her snowy gowns?

garlands of myrtle…for a crown

and the three lilies.


Notre Dame.it's not the same.

my poems burst into flame

and the toy ladders cannot reach them

weeping the violet or the rose.

I have composed it in my sleep

the thing to say

when it gets this way



but the throat of the swan


on the spun glass riveras


is braided with tears.


mary angela douglas 17 april 2019;26 july 2021;11 june 2022