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
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