ManicDDaily

The Millais Bridesmaid

Surely, none will check my hair–
you see, I’ve got them hidden there:
my own style pick
and candle wick–
tools to escape me someplace where

I will my self-same bridesmaid be
unveiling with solemnity
the paper, pen
that beat any Ken,
as I write my way to someplace free–

which may be but a blue-stained sheet–
(for my pick’s a pen with ink replete,
my candle wick–the
inner flicker
that lights my way to where words meet.)

In those linked strands of L and M
I will plait the who I am
as curl of b
and q of c
carries me onto the lam,

the writing lam, where I will wed
all I ever wish I’d said
and where I’ll find
a piece of mind
to nightly warm my blotted bed.

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Here’s a very belated draft poem for the wonderful Susie Clevenger’s prompt on Real Toads to write something inspired by a painting by John Everett Milais. I chose the Bridesmaid above.  

I hesitate to post such a silly poem in light of the horrors and tragedies of Paris; so so sad.