At The Museum: Walking Toward The Square Of Malevich Poem by Mary Angela Douglas

walking toward the square of Malevich
I bound my hair with constellations
my head so filled with
thorns and blank recriminations

while I am torn
a mere page from some decrepit notebook
sketching the outcomes on my own
or being sketched without a home
I stand under the
moon's singed eyebrow

watching the birds in darkened silhouette
too abstract now for any regret
the squares of blizzards
of cosmic nights

phased out from all these simulated flights
all docent sweetness hived
still I find some solace in
still being alive

despite my curious plight
atoning for any discrepancies
in a circle of
weeping light

mary angela douglas 28 september 2001; 28 september 2023