I sent flower gardens
To coastal Californians
Not one gilded lily postcard in return
I prayed for them under the honeymoon moon:
Honey, miel, orange blossoming language
God saw me then.
What shall we do I said to him
With the little inequities
The exchange of Italianate marble for silly putty
The bouncing of my one green ball
Into the palace hallway
Guarded by fierce dogs.
The droning of aeroplanes over the summer horizons,
the orange groves
Where the irretrievable shines.
mary angela douglas 9 may 2024
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
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