Wednesday, October 19, 2016

Where She Left Her Eyeglasses

[to my sister Sharon who knew all the best secrets first]

the crystal encrusted the enjeweled skies...
on saturdays in our cotillion dresses,
likewise, we wore starry

chiffon, with beaded tops
and velveteen flats.
its the flats and sharps of the

dancing schools reprised
that we knew then, the surprise
birthdays in the middle of the weeks

the after school treasures we hunted
through the house
while Grandmother gave lessons

the eternity of music to the neighborhood children
that lingers like her blue grass perfumes,
little crystal flasks where you withdrew

quicksilver princess of the nooks and crannies,

the old bureau drawers and the
aqua escritoire,
how you always knew

where she last left her eyeglasses
as if you were some magician.
having rummaged through all her hatboxes

in the afternoons.

mary angela douglas 19 october 2016