There Is A Knight On The Edge Of My Butter Knife Poem by Mary Angela Douglas

there is a knight on the edge of my butterknife
I can scarcely see
all crystal having been banished from sparkling

in the castle
and he is charging at something.
he is in golden armor naturally

catching the late sun surreptitiously
so that the gold fish swim
more frantically in the bowl

wanting to be the only gold accents in the room.
how will the story end?
will he charge the marmalade?

will he play the fool and turn to dusky grim?

will this upset the children?
or will he retreat into the
blue sugar bowl

knowing tomorrow is another
anthill to climb.

mary angela douglas 28 december 2015