sprigged are the clouds of the summer dresses
pleated down the front of the sky
pin-tucked with eyelet
tears of joy for the
poufy petticoats, crinolines of the rose
or layered sherbet stand-alone.
who will ever wear them again in lemon
grove paintings long ago,
done like the hats with mysterious veiling
discreet flowers
and will we watch their angels lifting off
with wings cut out by the serious children
from Simplicity Pattern No.
1 billion and one
mary angela douglas 17 february 2014
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