Why Is It Whenever We Get Up To Sing Poem by Mary Angela Douglas

why is it whenever we get up to sing

the library disclaimer kicks in at the Open Mic

so-called only to say this Library has no liability



for the mention of Jesus walking on the

waters of this poem but I go on

speaking about that day in the park



and I'm in the children's pool bobbing

in a little boat and happy to be afloat

in the mystical day in the swan boat



and after the snow cones, adrift in the

pond and there are my Grandparents so fond of me



as I try to conjure them back in the library storeroom but instead

and mysteriously a whiff of strawberries overhead

Arkansas's best summons us to this clear and chilled pear moment



and the audience is blurred.stirring uncomfortably.



there are my grandparents smiling at me

like I'd just reached Olympus at the age of three

oh what is it my library that you disdain that



I'm speaking in vanilla plain syllables of ice cream

wondering at you your antiseptic demesne your rules



about me and my poem and Jesus in the dark

leaning over the carousels the stallions in pink and green

sparks going off every once in a while a mis en scene



and the diadem over my head



of the shekinah glory of God

and the evening then, so mild.



the moon battened down with a firefly brooch between clouds.

the poem finished; the crowd dispersed

and I'm still in love with the beauty of the earth.



mary angela dougals 17 april 2020; rev.16 may 2020