Calling The Game Poem by Mary Angela Douglas

the game was called because of rain

the monsoons of the weather vain

the intellects that pare it down


so words are finally, only sound

and rip the heart from its own ground

in or out of season


give me one good reason why those

who reign need not apply

need never ever seem to show


the source of anything they know

but let it slide while on we go

the extras in their picture show


who vanish when the curtains close

oh banish those that tell us so.


mary angela douglas 4 may 2020; rev.6 june 2020