Leaving The Maps Unfolded Poem by Mary Angela Douglas

we lived in train stations
waiting was our forte
for a better something someday

or at least different
God would send it along the track
between assignments

we never wanted anyway
with maps from The National Geographic
never folded away

they resembled the creases on the moon
I couldn't male room for once they were unfolded
we would have done better, my soul and I

still in the country of the young
to live from cloud to cloud in chiffon prints
not to assume what was assumed in unison

by people of that time

it would have made more sense
everything disappeared anyway
though it seemed so knock on wood solid back then

at least the landmarks, benchmarks should stay the same
not melt away in the rain like my old pink raincoat left on the train not everything onstage has to shift between scenes

do you know what I mean;
but you know how the philosophers are about that
everything has

too much space in it
to be furnished.


mary angela douglas 26 december 2018