Monday, June 13, 2016

The Secret I

the secret I
likes surprise parties continually;
the kind with little presents 

wrapped up in pastel tissue paper,
curled ribbons,
I will not deny:

and the invitations earlier,
crisply printed with the painted pink cake,
the cheerful smiles, the green balloons


the secret I who
likes many tunes
and humming them all at once

and once upon times times two, or three or four or more

while the jacks spin away from the red rose ball
as if they were galaxies reeling
on a childhood floor and

all that I am needing, dreaming
wheedling from God every day
in the thick of it or out

and bright as mist amidst the purple clover

with rice pudding with raisins for supper
or plain bread and butter spread quite thin
is all delight to the secret I

who likes red delicious 
the best when we're speaking in apples,
and orangeade sunrise-

and thinks that there's

an Eternal Festival in it,
every minute,
all this happy scheming:

jam by jam, careening.

mary angela douglas 13 june 2016