(to the fairy godmother in all her guises)
perhaps she was born to illumine small corners
to sow sparkles amongst the cobwebs
bridal finery for the dolls
on afternoons after all, when she could hardly lift the clouds
managing the lights in majolica, instead; to lighter duties wed:
Shakespearian carriages drawn by moths-
awaiting, a shade melancholy, the will o' the wisp commands;
the sewing trials and the close knotted stitchery, stitches:
between them, no moonlight, her mother said
dark tea, no clotted cream, no princess gaunt
certainly, no spindled dream,.la belle au bois dormant....
for cameo appearances she was well suited
in peach velvet with the magic fishbone
occasional sorties into the hall closet
rummaging sweet ballgowns of a distant age;
turn the page of visions and the songbird flees the cage,
the jewelry of a moment;
memorize Forever,
put away, with the crystal recessionals.
put away from you the garnet inconsistencies
her voices chided
renewing like Yeats
the wands.
the reticent swans
the pale blue legends
of the Easter silk days.
mary angela douglas 20 december 2018lrev, 17 january 2019
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