fromThree Poems
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, Starlings.
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, Starlings.
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