To Be Sung In White Tulle, Silver Sequined (Final Version) Poem by Mary Angela Douglas

the king mislaid his
blueprints for the stars,
star wheel configurations,
trollies on Mars
and cries at night
into his imperial shadow
as on the eve before a battle.
lost courtiers kneel
their cases on appeal
before the showcase cakes
little children may not eat
no matter how long they say
they are sorry
that the toeshoe, thistledown moon
is slipping farther afternoons
down the rimed rose campion
windows of the castle.
but they will keep their
diamond latchkeys safe
at this rhapsodic distance from the sun-
from the sparklers' fizzy dreaming at the end-
from that last summer-in a white gown
and bless - and bless-
the eternal lily snows, on the fleeting ground

mary angela douglas 25 may 2011; 16 august 2022; 9 march 2023