Tuesday, June 02, 2009

I Gathered Fresh Gardenias: You Were Missing

[for Virginia Woolf]

I gathered fresh gardenias: you were missing
and zinnia periled summers waved me by.

I followed down the path of your demise,

my own breath caught in trees
above the Flood

and pressed my fingertips into

your orchid-backed mirror's
perfect pearl-on-pearl

turning through each

dream-curled edge
into the whorl of
contravening years

and sallow interpreters.

o willow willow war was near
but the kindness of your mind

does not contract; the crisp

carnation rooms are still
your own:

a crystal condensation's flame

on the flung-open window; the
inlaid diaries of quartz
and rain-

all chatelained gestures foregone-

for these moonlit cloud-inscriptions
of uncalibrated grace are written
on the evening sky.

sensing your angel's churning wing,

I cried.
o rose geranium stillness

violet sky

against which lemon lovely sounds were

your apricot excursion's standing down

oh why

no second snow on snow's appearing,

starred like winter's cotillions,
only warmer...

your garnet constellations

break apart and my heart

losing this kaleidoscope

with no continuance:

the semi-precious laws remain in force.

mere sleeves of her egress remain:

sheer-beaded brocade caught
as the moment, strand by strand

too visibly dissolves.

desert me now, sotto voce,

as your angels melt in music,


then I saw

brightness brightness

every shining phrase unshunned

and drowned in Light

mary angela douglas 30-may-2 june 2009