when I was queen of a paper doll stage
(my sister too)
the one dimensional characters with tin foil crowns
we liked to move around
in candy coloured shades from the cellophane on the footlights
(flashlight)
and weeping over the roseless briars
my sister and I, composing angelic choirs
duets, where we ran up and down the scales
to find the harmonies,
cut out the tracing paper moons from Christmas stationery
and let the light shine through-Heavenly Light, we deemed it
from the muslin curtained window on the Blue
in our old room.
let me remind you, we were the directors
screenplay adapters too
sometimes mixing plays so that
the little girl who strayed in the rose red cape
the tiny wicker basket full of elderberry jam
homemade butter and yeast rolls our best prop
on her rickety way
to grandmama indisposed
quite often wound up at the castle not
the cottage door and was suddenly The Princess.
we mixed and matched the actors in their roles
on the cardboard stage displayed on a
circus figured table that could also hold fresh cocoa
(with the little marshmallows)for
never the same play twice.
I miss those plays and how the dolls loved them
especially Raggedy Ann in her sprigged dress,
over washed apron
her permanently peppermint striped socks
her fixed sweet smile from the dress circle
egging us on
clapping like rain against the leaves
her soft padded hands.
at our commands.
mary angela douglas 27 august 2018
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem