For Everything Beautiful That Was Made Poem by Mary Angela Douglas

we were the waifs of a language that was jeweled

I hear the poets ghosting it as a rule

just after dusk

and in November's spareness and in God I trust

I learned enough in school to know

they were cruel in their time

to the garret prone.

those who ate three meals at home or going out and more

with the port wine included, the Madeira.

I dont know anything about that.

or not that much.having been made

to live by the clock for most of my life

nickled and dimed but in love with the chimes

on holidays be that as it may with the tick or the tock

the fee simple.

I know a price has been paid

for everything beautiful that was made

long before it ever

showed up on the auction block.

mary angela douglas 25 september 2019