Could We Like Clouds, Float Over Poem by Mary Angela Douglas

could we like clouds, float over
chagall like above all circumstance
and would then the piano turn bright

green the screen door let the clouds in?
it is late.
the musicians tune on board for the

last time so it seems
above deck we fall in love with God
more quietly than before

and gleams from afar float across
your nightime vision violet in the waning
while no children keep score.

but somewhere we may unlatch the sky
and somewhere we'll find
that when we die

it wasn't really dying,
it was flying over.

mary angela douglas 27 march 2016