Mary Angela Douglas Poems

in my cherry cadenzas
fleece shorn clouds traipse by
at the end of their summery measures:
a gold gummed star to light the way
...

tearing the page with the rose on it
on the way home
she cried, I didn't mean to.
somewhere may we build
...

dear brontosaurus on the planet Pluto
or somewhere with Ray Bradbury?
are you green plastic now or brown
or have they melted you down completely
...

[partially inspired by the Peter Weir film, The Last Wave]

champagne coloured, for awhile, the clouds disperse;
a universe has set and still you are not sure
...

time at the fairytale threshold cannot pass:
let the lime tree flower endlessly by
the little door or suddenly turn to snow who knows
...

a simple solar system over the baby cradle swung
and flecked with laughter, glinting in the blue
of no clouds ever, diffused a prismed light on
Sundays in the afternoons and on the lemon floor.
...

I wished for you a sugared almond vision;
wedding mints in pastel green and blue
and pink and yellow on occasion, too;
...

the rose recitals seen in retrospect
keep their bloom irregardless: at first,
uncertainty at the piano; then launching into
...

to those who painted the incipient wave,
the last foretold-
instead of getting out of town
...

Manassas, I remember your scorched earth-
a handful of yellow leaves,
trembling-
...