Thursday, November 21, 2013

In A Sugared Quiet Lit By Multicoloured Stars

[after the (imaginary) school auditions for the Nutcracker Ballet]

here is the snow-globe where the tiny fir cones

gleam in a sugared quiet lit
by multicoloured stars o in tiny spotlit rose,

or amethyst fire, of carillon sighs through

a winter self-contained,
if miniscule.

and it will never rain inside your heart here

if you're not in the ballet.
you will only be surprised each time

a tinny music chirps and clicks

whenever you are shaken,
and the universe is

flecked as if for a tiny party

all your own and the
self-same fairy confetti

drifts and sifts;

it sparkles, trembles, curved like a new moon

on a wire and you twirl, my glaced
sugurplum, you dream

you are the queen of cherry,

drizzled whipped cream;
tiarad sovereign of the ballerinas

who incarnate snows,

their lavender shadows
and the pink the blue-

in a Christmas buona sera

even if no one calls you, "Clara".

mary angela douglas 21 november 2013