Drowning Happy Poem by Mary Angela Douglas

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