you in your red cloth slippers
pretending always "ballet..."
oh ballet, you dream
and of soaring over everything snide,
bypassing the stage whispers and
pearl set like a bride in the aftermaths in
a star-stiff tutu, sugar dazzling
and imperceptibly, impossibly you'll turn like snow and melt into
into the ...sixth job interview today.
where is it written, who keeps counting heads
when the dreams are handed out
at the first of the school year
to the subdued children in the gymnasium
where it always smells like chlorine,
pop quizzed fizzling, something not quite right
if they could put their finger on it...
I will fasten the birthday brooch of amethyst
to my soul forever, Mama-
remembering His violets and when
I believed in the red cloth slippers
the gum machine jewels;
Bazooka comic afternoons or
in holding up my arms as if they were Light itself
where no one sees
upon the bright, the petaled stage
that I am queen of the flowers
at least, for the matinees-
and dressed appropriately for it
mary angela douglas 7 november 2014
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