To The Beautiful City In Waiting Poem by Mary Angela Douglas

I had brought no silver but the moon

no gold but the sun

I was remiss to everyone


all winter the earth wore white

beyond Labor Day

to whom shall I complain


cried the complaint to the lute

the Madrigal across time

I sang at the doll sized sink


or amid the eglantine in Keats or in

the remnants of the Beautiful City.

I was housed there


but mainly in my mind

anchored in mist

anchored in mist and God


I rose to tell you this

but you, you persisted.

banishing me again.


mary angela douglas 20 september 2018