All Lives Are Unfinished She Said

all lives are unfinished she said
finishing the seam and seamlessly
on some cotillion dress

it's the brocaded life you'll always miss
if you chose the one accented with only crystal
the slippers to match

the little little veil
and you are not held in place as you imagine
sewing your toeshoe ribbons down but

slipping away on any windy day
without your barrettes

and wondering
where am I next, never indexed
on the colorfull index cards

in the little box
and is this passible

she said holding it up to the light
a dress of sheer fire shining
not made to impress but astonish

how could I answer her
while I was weeping merely pearls, emeralds, rubies
and could express, nothing.

mary angela douglas 24 november 2015