When The Fever Turned Poem by Mary Angela Douglas

it's immaterial the witnesses said at Court
that the jeweled nightingale breaks down
if you just look at it.

that's what repairmen are for;
the best to be found! let them be summoned
that we may bow down to the uniform sound

with no interruptions.

click whir whir click and tock and tick
I think it's fixed they marveled
when something cried: take stock

in the eiderdown and seven layers silk
the Emperor may drown and breathe his last...
alas! the word rippled down to the plain nightingale,

the kitchen maid's tree by the sequined sea.
mirrored the grey of a kingdom tottering.

oh please oh please she prayed
oh fly, little nightingale, away.
and so, she did, singing till daybreak

pouring a heartful music there.

and over the coverlids of the Emperor,
Death stole away to his creamy white roses-
oblique, defeated; dark tears in his eyes.

mary angela douglas 12 august 2015