ANGELIQUE
Twenty-one Moons-of-Berries, and Angelique,
Nurtured to ripeness in the wild black earth
Of St. Hilaire by summer suns and rains,
Waxed like a wild goose plum upon the bough,
From brimming bud, to blossom, into fruit.
Despite the frosts that life had visited
Upon her youth—her father, mother, brothers, all
Had vanished with the sickness-on-the-lungs—
She struggled to survival into beauty.
Nurtured to ripeness in the wild black earth
Of St. Hilaire by summer suns and rains,
Waxed like a wild goose plum upon the bough,
From brimming bud, to blossom, into fruit.
Despite the frosts that life had visited
Upon her youth—her father, mother, brothers, all
Had vanished with the sickness-on-the-lungs—
She struggled to survival into beauty.
At twenty-two she found the will to live
In a high sweet dream of loveliness to come,
A dream of home, of a swinging cradleboard
Bearing its fretful cargo from a sea
Of trouble into the port of cool sleep;
Oh, Angelique would mother anything,
A homeless cat, a dog, a broken bird.
In a high sweet dream of loveliness to come,
A dream of home, of a swinging cradleboard
Bearing its fretful cargo from a sea
Of trouble into the port of cool sleep;
Oh, Angelique would mother anything,
A homeless cat, a dog, a broken bird.
At twenty-three the rich maturity
Of full-blown womanhood revealed itself
In every rounded line of hip and bosom,
In every limb that pulsed with ardent wine.
Of full-blown womanhood revealed itself
In every rounded line of hip and bosom,
In every limb that pulsed with ardent wine.
