making the Princess laugh was now worth
a whole half kingdom, perhaps she
smiled to herself
alone in her chamber
with her philosophy books;
her orchid book of hours.
and from her windows she espied
them lining up already in their armour
cagey with the clue to the Damoclean riddle
she devised.
she practices sighs
while the roses weep sheer petals
of pink turned to lavender
in the moon ridden gardens
shadowed too soon.
and folds her mantilla up,
the one of violet rains
on account of the dream she had
after supper
of the renegade planet
With myriad suns
In carnival skies
and each of them in imperial peril
just for a cracker jack prize.
mary angela douglas 12 july 2015 rev. 20 june 2017
