The Library Of One Poem by Mary Angela Douglas

the library of one
where green leaves shuttled through.
pink clouds.

the shelves reach to starlight
out of sight when all inspectors come.
rose-leaved, the pages turn as

though in a garden-
cinematic to a fault.
and dreamy.

softly the archangels quench all interruption.
for the library of one

who went to work
on the meanest bus
and worked for churls

typing up their manuscripts.

mary angela douglas 4 february 2015