EATING RED VELVET CAKE WITH PREMIUM ICING

 

eating red velvet cake with premium icing

my guardian angel smiled stickily-

scooping fresh lilies from the clouds…

It's no use having that shimmer of expectant wings

I said, breaking the news as kindly as I could-

I'm not a painter; 

and no one's painting anymore the Madonna

standing tiptoe on Pink tissue clouds

while gazing straight up into unseen starlight

by a glittering residue in her oval face, surmised…

 

you could try, fluttered my angel

forgetting the Christmas clothes again

that gathered crumbs but  

trailing the late spring light, nostalgically-

start with crayons.

or a simple easel with a temporal sun.

(you mean, tempera, don't you) 

you know, the one in the corner of the page

you painted first, letting the colors run: 

dressed in pure marigold by your Grandmother, 

on your brightest day away from home

it seemed to you the house outlined in green

with a rose rose roof

could be played in, Infinitely…

I know how you feel I said-

but the angel cried into a cloud in the

late sun, losing light

don't be afraid don't be afraid

sad earth away from Christmastime; 

what a waste of iris blue was set here in the

firmament the angel mourned not to be comforted, 

it seemed-

perhaps, they'll start again

softly I strummed the gathering twilight, overcome-

or the light mist falling suddenly-

they could remember (after school  

or the last job interview falls through-

or the last three red potatoes drop - unexpectedly-

one by rolling one on the subsidized linoleum) -

that once, there were harps…

mary angela douglas 25 september 2012