Tuesday, June 20, 2017

The Glorious Salvage

the letters you sent into space
disappearing without a trace or
singed by summer clouds

the right answers erased
before they are copied down
from the "this will be on

the test next Friday"
and you're in a haze
and can't find the things to say

the dress to wear
the golden pear
that makes the fairy tale puzzle complete

oh don't despair...
there is a place, replete,
replacing sour with sweet...

somewhere there is a merry go round,

carillon found after the Fairs are closed
for children indisposed
kept after school

a kind of heavenly cake walk to a
mailbox loaded by whom? who knows?

with brightly foiled on cardstock cards
all occasion caissoned,
moon silk screened

just for you on hold

at the candy striped depot
of misplaced dreams
and missing socks amid

the tick and the tock of oblivious birthdays fraught
with more and more seasons
for being glad

with pockets turned inside out

for losing the things called sad
and happy you are
on your own private star

with beaucoups of icinged
whisks and bowls to lick

and umpteen heirloom bouquets still to pick
that you are tagged
in the game of not it, it

like a queen for a day
party favored and so glad ragged
for the unimpeachable on its way

the peach starred day
full of delicious crumbs of this and that
and citron glowing and the green cherries mystifying;

the sugared pineapple

the breakfast of
hot sauced scrapple

creamery cream dappled
keep the fudgesicles flowing
the caramel apples rolling

while we're extolling
the blue birding packages piled up to the skies
wrapped up for you in the bye and bye: the

Somewhere everything sent is acknowledged
somewhere everything received is complete
somewhere the handwriting is neat

in letters that swoop like sea birds
in graceful curves on floral stationary-
with something jeweled in their beaks;

from all the shipwrecks,
the glorious salvage

mary angela douglas 20 june 2017