Getting Out Of The Ruins While It's Still Dark Poem by Mary Angela Douglas

getting out of the ruins while it's still dark

we fed our last sweet crumbs to the moonlit birds

this is the last of the cherries I said

when I was speaking in the colour red

and telling times by twos.

what did you learn in school

I learned tea set rules, to model in clay and

how to be somewhere else all day

and that the pelting of words

felt like sleet coming down, stray marbles

thrown at the visionary weddings

the sudden quizes, quizzical;

fractions, sweetly the conjugations of llorar.

even with aprils sweeping through the yard

this is the last of the dreams my star; I said to you,

be careful with it.

mary angela douglas 5 march 2020