The Eighth Day (Final Version) Poem by Mary Angela Douglas

on the eighth day the stars rang out like bells
frost on the least of the leaves remaining
we lived for snow globes
subsets of the Christmas scene
and the fairy tale meanings
I tried to wrap up the sun to give my mother
it's hard to be young harder than you'll remember it being
with the names for things so tenuous
you could say milk and really mean bread
or nothing at all and still be fed
and all your thoughts are feelings and coloring things in.
where am I going what did I intend
the gardens grew on their own without me
the stars lent their rays

mary angela douglas 31 october 2021