A WHITE DRESS: THE ONE NETTED WITH STARS

I don't know why even now it seems such an illusory thing
almost like an ideal yearned for, never realized
but shimmering still, like a mirage

a dress to be worthy of
a pristine dress, white chiffon with a netted overlay
of tiny sprinkled stars silver stars

I close my eyes I see it
paragon of all possible dresses
and I can't trace the mystery of how it came to be

so enshrined in my memory like a second soul.
I had once a white chiffon dress with puffed sleeves
waltz length with beautiful seams, a perfect skirt and gathered

graciously
and ruby red pumps, all of fifteen, a bouquet frosted
gold by my Grandfather

and dancing school's Holly Ball to attend.
the occasion did not live up to the dress.
ever since, I see it even more transfigured

a dress of snow, and actual stars come down
like a fairy godmother extra
and they star cluster upon it and will not go of

a dress that glows
why it is moonlight people should say
or is it snow and the disappearing

among the colored lanterns when the evening has run out of
its glittery evening things
the gardens receding

as though it were early spring
that feeling

a dress to be worn the epitome of gardenia, lily, rose
all the cream flowers massed together
a kind of Infinity I deem it now to be.

mary angela do0uglas 6 july 2018