[to George McDonald-
and to my mother, at the back of the North Wind-]
dreaming lines from Your book of pearl
we carried the snow in our small hands
from the white-worked embroideries on the lawn.
you only feel the cold at first;
then you don’t.
a dish of frozen cherries for the King: scooped out-
a Queen looks out from her diamond windowpane
and sighs,
“will these ships sail?”
cover my words in the green shade of your hands.
the sun can blister what should be said.
and you may find the back-hand of the wind
and every lost subaltern telling you what to do
with your fine soul
though filmy valentines from God Himself
will shadow you…
and may I scoop from the frozen honey
of your tears, white velvet on my slightest wings,
bright words to remain on earth with
after you’ve disappeared-
she cried.
while children standing on orange crates
declaim it’s best to be
eating oranges at Christmas-tide
and peppermint ice-cream.
the Queen smiled out
rich stenciled window-panes
where they finger-wrote in frost
their last goodbyes.
carry fond words into the eternities,
she wrote them back -
carry blizzards on your back
for the sake of the truth
we saved from melting...
mary angela douglas 21 january 2012
