After the Rainfall

After the Rainfall

The cries of the gallows have melted into stone

That the winds should shudder, cinder longing

I think I should fly away from musings

On candlelight and bright balloons

The paper dolls pressed all in a row

I close the petite white doors on their eyes

And whisk myself to a new frame of mind

Of catcalls and dirges

Before the wind blows me over

Into my fountain of half-used tea bags

I drink tea as often as there are stars

In the Angelino sky

My fountain overflows to feed an army

Of bread dough clowns,

A child’s tea time dream

In the Red Queen’s garden

With peacocks and ladies

Decked in gowns or men’s suits

Top hat and bustle

It’s all the same to them

The clowns cracked and bare

Their smiling heads roll manically up a storm

Bergamot spires, golden orange magenta