Aftermirage In The Violet Snow (Reposting) Poem by Mary Angela Douglas

I did not imagine the hush of the holly stars.
the crunch of the white alphabet
newly fallen from heaven

the enchanted glass surfaces crackling
after the ice storms or
the blue-gold icicled xylophone tears-

near the lavender eaves.

Oh Damozel…

it's not that peripherally dreamed that
in an ivory wind my soul was gathered,
in hidden vespers written on a crystal slate

in firm handwriting with a Christmas fountain pen.

oh why did you not look back, forgetful child
so used to hearing the angels sing and making the
emerald no, the ruby partridges scatter just by moving your arms

as though they were wings.

or what made you later than late

when the golden pear
slipped shadowy from its branch

in your plain sight glittering
(it would have been if you hadn't dawdled over your cereal
said your sister)

and before sifting under
the drifts of cream you found out were unsugared
unexpectedly.

you could have scooped up everything then
and brought it back into the house for Mama,
violet glaced-

where we would have been suddenly rich with Forever.

mary angela douglas 10 november 2012