The Rose Recitals Seen In Retrospect Poem by Mary Angela Douglas

the rose recitals seen in retrospect
keep their bloom irregardless: at first,
uncertainty at the piano; then launching into

musical suspension of all else and it's the
pianoforte now the plunging into
evanescent waters wreathed in flower sounds of a

childhood's sweetheart semblances and
the coloured rippling through the room
no longer a room, an opening onto space

excused from school
and laved in the roselights now and green
and green as the twinings round a measureless rest

yet the rockinghorse made of stars won't stop
as we have galloped away or lapsed into
beauty at the rose recital and they will not

call us back from the printed programme atmosphere,
not ever; from lime sherbet punch served up on an april
porch as I'm wearing the pink rosebud dress with the satin

sash of immeasureless poetry and a wrist corsage of curtseys to the disappearing
room and all the rest is altered by the

coolness of carnation skies
when we're, dismissed-

mary angela douglas 20 march 2014