Friday, December 16, 2016

Some Ballet

for Olga Spessivtseva

out of some ballet did you wander
looking at home in the snows
you with your tiara ah

no longer of rose,

made of frost.of vagrant moonglow.
it is made of frost, hard words
your day to day

are you still in some ballet
shirring the music that's your own
and pure, without memory,

mirrors falling away;
courting old dismay

consigned to this
where the glass in all rooms
shatters at the clear

note attained.
though no footlights stray
and barely a moon

that's pear shaped
comes your way
are you still in some ballet

you with the lilac cast to your face
your eyes, your hands your grace
composed of snowlight

of what falls apart
so easily
fragile to the last

unaccustomed to the haze
are you still
in some ballet?

mary angela douglas 16 december 2016