angels with their lutes in a foreign dream
strummed in a corner apart
and I said my heart is made of madrigals, too
the marled seas
can I be here amongst the spangled?
is it the Renaissance again?
but all went silent as a pin
and none of them were dancing.on it.
used to the shut out I resumed
cleaning my housing unit, little rooms
that would never look clean
nor gemmy like those angels
in their opulent green
their Christmas burgundies.
so much for my time machine
the journal entry read
the diamond light had turned to lead
I scrawled in a darker ink.
then went back to the sink
to try again
from that day, some unforeseen name day dropped out of a cloud
and not on the calendar with the strawberry leaves
I sang Happy Fair over the soap bubbles
and made a fresh bargain with God
I'll live in You there's no place else to go
not in any century, status quo
and sing for free
whatever song I know.
mary angela douglas 24 january 2019;rev. 14 may 2021
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