Wednesday, June 07, 2017

This Is The Atlas Of The Floating

this is the atlas of the floating
and did they bind their hair with colorful ribbons
from the five and dimes

fresh in their petticoats
or coming from the Fair
I praise

their cloud souvenirs
the small teasets carved
and hidden in their pockets

handpainted with little red apples
did they eat scrapple, peaches with frothing cream
were they mise en scene

or barely spoken to
dressed in velvet at the Christmas parties
and with fine lace collars.

hoarding sand dollars from the sea shores
of their inland dreams inlaid with pearl
I cherish them

because they had no scheming ways
nor did they drop handkerchiefs on the sidewalk
for the cavaliers

after all the gold bitten in half
and the shine worn off of the evening news.
i think of them in blue taffeta

under a pale pink moon
with wisteria nearby.
and I believe in them

that once they really were
the way they were
without artifice

spooning out strawberry ice
sleep walking under the lime trees
and vowed, life-long,

to Poetry.

mary angela douglas 7 june 2017