[to Eugene Field for the Sugarplum Tree,
to all the Five and Ten's...]
in the variety store of my dreams I saw...
reams of golden notebook paper,3-ringed.
hair bows of rococo velveteen
and, to match, the dirndl skirts on sale
the ones embroidered with the tiny rosebuds
and, I grew pale: Parisienne perfumes
in their cristal flasks and not their
knock offs and so affordable at last.
fishing tackle for the Magic Fish
the one that gives you what you wish for
up to a point and wooden apples
hollowed out with appley tea sets crouched within
all brimmed mysteriously with apple tea!
and blue plate specials of the tuna melt, the tuna club
I rubbed my eyes in sweet surprise
and fountain cokes; is this a joke?
and candies, candies meant for me,
a pennysworth, a sack!
from the gumdrop tree in a dreamtime shower
and china fit for a playhouse dower
and all my loves come back to me
like the apple tree, the mockingbird,
gardenia coolness, curling fern
small brook silvering in a shaded sun
fountain pen letters from my Mother.
and Time ran backwards in technicolor.
mary angela douglas 8 july 2015; 10 march 2016
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
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