(in elegant, predestined hilarity, to my Mama)
I want to write in pink icing I am for the sentimental y'all
on a many layered cake that someone else can bake
I don't understand the lack of understanding about
the absolutely infinite splendidness of sentiment
whether in old novels, valentines, posies wrapped in
cones of silver fluted paper,movies Late and Later shown
on the TV, on my own
I am simply in favor of the tra la la la la of it all
what ails you neighbor that you turn up your nose
at every single rose, rosette, rococo amulet
I want to know you bet
what's wrong with you
a sentimental tune or two wouldn't more than cure
but you grit your teeth and endure my optimism
and shudder at rainbow prisms and love to dwell in schisms
how would you have us be then
bespectacled and full of ourselves
like sputtering wells of the artifacts
of facts and facts and facts of Information Please
oh pleeeease.
I will dream a little dream
and throw a cream pie in your direction
for your grievous imperfection.
a sugar pie sugar pie sugar pie,
Sugar Pie.
mary angela douglas 10 january 2022
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