Precarious Poem by Mary Angela Douglas

The things I thought I would say in many languages
Cry themselves to sleep and burrow in the deep woods
Where starlight only speaks
And live bewildered, restive
In kingdoms of the precarious
Making do.
How will I chart their seas
Landlocked as I am
Disposed to being somewhere else instead
I write on clouds and then they drift away
Leaving me with
Finally no further words to say.
mary angela douglas 6 march 2024