The Rose Books Of Anatoly Konenko Poem by Mary Angela Douglas

waiting for the beautiful ship to come
we stood on sinking continents
our eyes flooded with meteor showers

in a compact room
an artist sat
making books out of dried

rosepetals

children in their sleep
waiting for the beautiful ship to come
might never know

the roseleaves he was turning
at precisely the midnight
of the world

bird shadows over the blue
green
melting poles could understand;
sensing the end of all auroras

they sang only for him
the artist arranging rose pages
binding with flowers the...

with fine mauve stitching that
would not come undone

rose inscriptions
rose inscriptions
rose inscriptions

was all that God could read

mary angela douglas 13 june 2009