In The Textile Museum Or The Sonatina That Breaks Like Glass Poem by Mary Angela Douglas

this is the curtain they made for the one
window missing a pane of glass perhaps
and it is beautiful to you

coming after the fact with its unmistakeable rickrack.
or perhaps, it is not.
you should know under what conditions

anyway, this came to be, whatever the work of art;
the glaze on the pond of their winter
without food or candle in the dark. the rainless ridicule

of the long days before the ark
was finished...

the shimmer of it all, pre-rainbow.
and the lost feelings.
the cost of this...

going up and down the mirroring scales,
you too may shine in a different place
a more Elysian field

and time but keep in mind:

where they piled twigs in the out of doors
and tried to light them-
to keep you warm coming so much later, down the years..

will you came back to visit them
conquering your fears
with Telstar,

a jar of cherry preserves?
a shelf or two spray painted blue

or pretend you've done things
all by yourself.
and never really knew them.

mary angela douglas 27 august 2015