Visions of the Daughters of Albion: A Screenplay
The bride of Heaven is Greer Garson.
In “Mrs. Miniver” God hears her
Breathing her white address into the emergency phone:
Starlings.
No help comes.
In the cinema of high-shoulders and the feathered toque
Even help is helpless.
And I am a bird in the cheap seats,
Calling backwards through the generations
Of Wise and Foolish Virgins—
Roberta, Aunt Mildred, Mother,
Can you see? Here is a new hat for each of you.
It is going to be war-time now, time for feathers,
And Mars, they tell me, has never been so close
To our spectacular and black & white Earth
As it is tonight. This is the movie we’ve chosen.
Nothing can stop the bombardment raining down
Upon the bride of Heaven in her white cottage, S
No comments:
Post a Comment