Oh Skylark Word In A Prison Of Bones Contained Poem by Mary Angela Douglas

we have the names of things still
but not their former richness, allusion.
Springs without crocus or rose
Heaven without God.
we have misspent words the words of miscreants
we have counterfeit and not the gold largesse
of words so beautifully careless flung over the stars.
pauses, caesura where we could revive. Selah.
in the kingdoms of previous poetry
when words were still alive and we read them
honey dripping down the day candle wax down
mysterious green bottles...
skylark blue and winging
gemstone encrusted how I trusted you oh fairy tale way
letters conveyed with the King's own seal.
barter barter for the green green wave

what have we come to.
codes. hand gestures for
get me out of here
i am a captive. they have laid down my soul
and pitched pennies over it and ground in the dust such garnet
till I am rust and a rusty gate with no hinge.
poetry with a hand held sign
in the back of a speeding junk heap.
tell me why what was silver is now dross
what was blooming is now withered
and the unwatered shoots.
why the word that fell from your lips like pearl
has turned to sludge.

mary angela douglas 2 august 2020