Princess Tea


Fragments left on the floor for us to pick up.

See it and let it in.

At the vanguard of the moment.

The weight, burden, guilt of stars pressed

Into our bones, the enduring precocity.

Me thinkest thou dost protest too much.

Presume, defended I am, in my tea

Hat, rosebuds, faded pinks, blue corn flowers,

Yellowed enamel, princess plates, delicate sandwiches

With crusts cut off, in my role,

Childlike wonder(ing) in arenas of crystal

Sugar, so far I have to go

To be comfortable, because I am

Culpable.

Resource my self.

Infuriating to show you what you don’t want to see.

LOVE.

This is the thing that is

Happening.

Right.

Now.

The girl in the daffodil dress plays in the

Grass, spilling her crumpets, a shower of crumbs

So that the rabbits may feed under the fawning dusk

Undisturbed by the indelicacy of indelible love and the

Transparent violence of interruption

There of.

And so.

We wander.

Each to each in bowers of spring flowers.

In the trumpeted throat of the cala lily

I blow my heart out.

Breaking it.

That broke open.

It may hold more.

You, and you, and you,

My darlings.

My violets in the high grass

Of summer.

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