A Game Of Tag In The Blue Dusk Poem by Mary Angela Douglas

in the blue dusk

what if passing away

is a game of tag

and someone gives you gardenias

as if you are in a stage play

where things have gone well

with childrens voices like flowers

in the darkness murmuring

and you in your favorite dress

get up to switch on the porch light

and to sit back down in the porch swing

thinking of something else

then suddenly you awake in Heaven

it seems like the same day

only the dusk is grander

the blues more arresting and the violets

as if a young painter painted them

and you, in your favorite shawl

the dress you put on this morning

the thin slippers

when you were still at home

eating your toast with the burnished honey.

adjusting the blinds

unable to distinguish anymore

the fireflies from the stars.

mary angela douglas 2 august 2023