Sunday, July 12, 2015

Bacon On Sundays

the black-eyed Susans she brought with her
wilted by the time
she got to Oz.

the ones for Aunt Em
to say I'm sorry I daydream at chores
forgetting the close the gate

and now beyond all gates

she cried at first.
then Toto snuffled around
for emerald flowers instead

they never said she was inconsolable
after that. they never said.
the whole time in Oz

missing the butter running down the johnny cakes,
and bacon on Sundays.
in love with the sparkles on the Good Queen's dress

and her own shoes.
but missing the haystacks by noon.
the Scarecrow felt as much.

but he wasn't talking either.
at night they both dreamed of sunflowers.

mary angela douglas 12 july 2015 rev. 20 june 2017 rev. 11 january 2018