After Jacques Brel Poem by Mary Angela Douglas

neither earth nor sky, here comes the thief of wishes
to filch the light from children's eyes from the very sun
that shone on you, Persephone in your dress of wild iris,

neither shore nor sea.

there burns the thief of wishes warning
those who should be told, instead
to flee the Messenger!

or weep fresh centuries away
or shake your Christmas angels,
sleeping fast, awake-

or wait at a turquoise landing
smoothing your dress of pearl till
not a lemon drop's left;

a train in the train yard.

she'll murmur from a glassy stream
as one who knows:
keep stealing the beat from the heart


the right word from the page
while the windmills turn as if in another age but
your own fields

your own...
fields are seldom green.

I saw in a dream with a silver spoon
the thief of wishes scoop the moon
till birdsong flew but not the birds

I am littered with the jewels of
what remains

mary angela douglas 29 august 2013