First Language Reverie Poem by Mary Angela Douglas

how to recognize at first the snow names

to distinguish one from the other

to recognize your own name

among all the others

you on the school bus going away

with your satchel and your address pinned into it

or earlier still home to trace the

letters, shapes and sizes, colorforms

all flowers, or only one violet

all suns, or only this ray

to sort the orange from the apple

to make the twilight stay



stay it will not but only be lavender fading into

not so colorfast indigo, then night

or it is evening, they say

and the stars shine like milk you feel

milkshine. you say

and it is summer also

and at night the flowers smell most sweetly

if someone leaves the window open for you

the window above the garden

or rain fills the garden

as if it were destined to be

an ark of flowers

you want to sail on the ark in your sleep

to breathe in the flowers

to rest in the flowers

and now you know some of their names

will they let you be petals too

you wonder

because you are still new

and the sounds and the names of things

are beautiful to you as the arpeggio of rains

as the hush of shadows are the hyacinth names

and the name is the flower

the flower is its names

and God is hid in the husk of it

and you dream to be lilacs

or one star lit above the winter trees

anything at all

so that they will love you, mama and papa

this is why you want to say

all, all the myriad names.

but not the one that carousel cries, goodbye.

I have fallen off the world.

mary angela douglas 4 february 2023