My Poem Has Manners Poem by Mary Angela Douglas

my poem has manners

sometimes it is diffident

it will pour tea



when there isn't any in the house

and the cup is cracked

the one with a favorite flower



but you don't notice

when you drink from it

the whole world seems



hand painted by God

well, who else would it be

although they pretend



he's not only

an unknown artist

he's unknown period



.



he's not even there

well did you make stars

my poem wants to know



or is merely rhetorical

perhaps you should go

my poem wants to cry



it's like that a lot

you would know

if you lived with it



if you watched it sprout

green leaves.

or wings



if you saw the way

it looks into the distance

as if, into a mirror.



or into the wind



the way it brings roses

into the day

on impulse



and scrapbooks the tears

of small children;

then, their amethyst smiles



mary angela douglas 18 april 2019