Saturday, January 14, 2017

Good Thinking

the bride doll with her doll pearls glowed
in the nightlight with unearthly sheen,
the folds of her netted silk dress gleamed.

we confessed to each other in a pale whispering,
she looks Spooky
our eyes pooled widely, our mouths a thin seam

too scared to call Grandmother on the scene
of a new distress thought out:
if she throws her bouquet

of tiny paper flowers
whatever you do,
don't catch it.

mary angela douglas 14 january 2017