The Babies Are Read To From The Encyclopedia Of Orange Poem by Mary Angela Douglas

it's the orange crayon sun peeling off of the window
sills of your first summer, lollipop gazing in-
translucent, the country of tangerine
you can't yet hold in your hands.

the dress your mother wears
when she is happy (the flounced peach crepe) -
the dog in autumnal rays

only a little mystical
with fluffed out ears.

it's the amber held in your account
of days and days and days
and years and years of it
so honey flooded oh

how could you believe our crooning?
it's the candied flowers on the cake
sticky, all over your face. nasturtium!
only one glory of the Lord

but shining and shining;
the cream between the layers
apricot, wondered at
even without the words

mary angela douglas 8 may 2014