All The Things You Thought You Knew Poem by Mary Angela Douglas

all the things you thought you knew
can be swallowed overnight.
what will you do without walls?

without the same curtains?
pickpockets at your lock
when there isn't even a door

anymore but a cubicle curtain
not in your favorite design.

it's you at home isn't it?
knocking around your soul
for a bit of cheese;

a trifle or two.
a familiar shoe
amid the debris and the jackhammers.

they wear well,
those wash dresses
retrieved from someone else's

clothesline saiing
over the backyards.

mine you say.
mine?
carry your heart in your hands

and watch the skies, not not the mail.
it's a long way now.
My God.

it's a long way.

mary angela douglas 15 june 2015; 11 march 2016