it's threading the point too finely
chided the godmother
tapping a lilac toe shoe on the pavement
where the silvered flowers blew.
and all this under early moonlight.
never mind the lateness of the hour-
the moonflower in blossom after
an early frost, lost...
you are not lost from wishing, are you?
Cinderella stared and rubbed her eyes.
you'll make them red if you keep doing that
if they're not already rose red from your crying.
apron starred, and twice around and singing
she commanded and the pinafore changed
into pale light threaded with roses,
fuschia sapphires, crystals and the effect is:
late snowfall in mid spring
lengthened into a gown.
oh branch out a little! complained the fairy
to her wand, o sing arias airily
she said to the astonishing bluebirds scattering
blue jade sparkles over their heads in
a vortex of music
flinging the neighbors back into
their gossipy hovels, in honied twilight-
evening crust of bread.
mary angela douglas 24 september 2014
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