Once You Had Silver Buttons

who would know
just seeing you now
that you had silver buttons

all up and down
a gown of peach velvet
and the words to go with them

with all the glazes, colours
running down
a candlewax castle

in a cool climate.
it has melted on the lawns
leaving no evidence

nothing for the public record.
so that people click their tongues
rattling like old newspaper wires

while you write in quartz
in the diaries of snow

in a city where things like this matter
the cake from the batter, the thorn from the rose
overpraised:

what corner did you come from
they complain;.
it is known now to God

with his rainbowed scarves
flung over the dull proceedings
to certain angels

that once you walked in jeweled slippers
your silver buttons tiny fountains of light
and you were peach delight

to Grandpapa Grandmama

in your childhood demeanor
queen of the pipe cleaner crafts
at Christmas tide

bringing summer
into all the rooms.

mary angela douglas 7 november 2017