[to my Grandmother, Lucy W. Young]
I remember the pages of light
where the leaves shadow scattered-
spatter painted delight!
album or maple? queried the fairies,
the songs my mother taught me out of sight
and I leafing through her scrapbook.
I remember the blessed darkness,
the pink nightlights,
the sick bed consolations
and the little pear salads.
small fears made right.
the shade
where the dim ferns perked after green
rains; the fragrance risen intensjvely from forest floors;
like mist, the kiss of my Grandmother
when I was almost sleeping;
the sound of distant horns as background.
Peter and the Wolf, the oboe the oboe.
the phonograph keening.
around the maypole sleeping I go round and round
wearing all the ribbons at once as they did once upon...
the dresses she bought us brought down from the
Heights they were that like pages of light
with baby rosebuds;
ginghams sashed,the cut-work graduation white
in tissue paper rustling,
try them on!make them last
she pleaded and the cotillions later,
the apricot jackets and the
multicoloured cummerbunds;
only what's done for Christ will last
green-gold taffeta taffeta
premised upon mere please and thank you
penmanship, the rose carnation spray,
verses learned today
and tea set privileges, the demitasse.
the heirloom piano reverenced.
and all of Music practiced bar by bar
the Arkansas stars
the lemon chiffons, the pages of light.
I danced needing nothing else
on an inner stage
and it is for this reason
and no other but that Christ saves
this poem to you Grandmother,
and the books you gave me gladly
from the turquoise, the sea-grey shelves.
mary angela douglas 10 july 2015;11 march 2016
I remember the pages of light
where the leaves shadow scattered-
spatter painted delight!
album or maple? queried the fairies,
the songs my mother taught me out of sight
and I leafing through her scrapbook.
I remember the blessed darkness,
the pink nightlights,
the sick bed consolations
and the little pear salads.
small fears made right.
the shade
where the dim ferns perked after green
rains; the fragrance risen intensjvely from forest floors;
like mist, the kiss of my Grandmother
when I was almost sleeping;
the sound of distant horns as background.
Peter and the Wolf, the oboe the oboe.
the phonograph keening.
around the maypole sleeping I go round and round
wearing all the ribbons at once as they did once upon...
the dresses she bought us brought down from the
Heights they were that like pages of light
with baby rosebuds;
ginghams sashed,the cut-work graduation white
in tissue paper rustling,
try them on!make them last
she pleaded and the cotillions later,
the apricot jackets and the
multicoloured cummerbunds;
only what's done for Christ will last
green-gold taffeta taffeta
premised upon mere please and thank you
penmanship, the rose carnation spray,
verses learned today
and tea set privileges, the demitasse.
the heirloom piano reverenced.
and all of Music practiced bar by bar
the Arkansas stars
the lemon chiffons, the pages of light.
I danced needing nothing else
on an inner stage
and it is for this reason
and no other but that Christ saves
this poem to you Grandmother,
and the books you gave me gladly
from the turquoise, the sea-grey shelves.
mary angela douglas 10 july 2015;11 march 2016
