Backstory Breakfast For 'The Emperor's New Clothes' Poem by Mary Angela Douglas

to my Grandmother

the peacock visions preen: sheer emerald,
turquise, gold paint dribbled dream
down the chins of the boo-less
(don't eat so slow, dear)
with a thousand eyes blinking
losing the contest

if you'll stare hard enough, long enough
piercing through the sheen.
so the child at her oatmeal heard

her Grandmother; pouring the cream
like a lake into the bowl lit with
islands of pure marigold butter.

-study hard to know the angel music
beginning with the first measure
she twirled the piano stool that afternoon

and opened the Steinway lid
as if it were gold.
-oh, sweet Pandora!
here's hope for you
in a dark-turned world
for the topsy turvy,

the witless and the scurvy days ahead;
though you are dressed in rainbow fashion now,
with a green bolero, thinking it's all candy
and the music box.

so passed the cherishing cherry pie days.
and every empty jar filled to the brim
with the wild honeysuckle.

till the festival day in the Square
where the scammed king stood:
exposed to the cold and a little more, the
rounded o; the child cherry lips composing

to disclose a fine truth spoken plainly
in a voice that carried over the confetti snows:

O
He has nothing on

mary angela douglas 9 june 2014

Note on the poem: of course this is my mini-Stanislavski
piano exercise on the very real fairy tale by Hans Christian Andersen, 'The Emperor's New Clothes.'