Mary Angela Douglas Poems

[to Hans Christian Andersen]

far from the orchid Heavens still,
mermaid like as I may be, swimming
...

sometimes the Real seeps under the door
and you are happy and you can't think why
though there's no sunshine in the sky.
...

a pale green mound of pistachio ice cream
in a pale pink dish
would be so delish
...

in invisible writing
where there are pinholes for stars
on black velvet
...

the shore cannot hold you and so, you depart
sometimes going out the entire day
sometimes returning a different colour
...

attic codes of the turtledoves
the blue birds with satin ribbons in their beaks
making a grand flourish of it
...

we wished to live in a Christmas show window
with the dolls in Victorian reds and greens
never spilling their tea
...

the skies were aqua in winter too; they gleamed
and the snows tinged with pink with
lavender even, beveled; how can this be
...

caught in the northern landscapes of the soul
have some perished?
were they remembered?
...

here in the garden of statues
one keeps watch not speaking
until spoken to.
...