Friday, October 04, 2013

Un Petit Cortege Minus The Rainbows

[to Rupert Brooke and the others]

it's just a little cortege and not white satin

pale as a summer moon.
she would have worn forsythia if

it were noon and violet gloves.

it's just a little cortege.
she's skipping geranium this season

that was for the cotillion,

Christmas tidings, tide.
it's just a little cortege.

a gold spray of holly

garnet slippers crossed her mind
a dress of infinite snow
but not the little cortege 
stumbling into trembling sunlight-  

losing the drumbeat

all her rainbows with it: 
wartime poets-
one by radiant one.

mary angela douglas 4 october 2013