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The Flaming Garter
Like the king of Cordoba’s treasury
Reflected in a robber’s eye
A laden dish of memory
Spills into the summer night
From a moving carriage window
A flaming garter flies
With whoops and calls
And high-pitched trills
The vehicle turns aside
Then flames appear at the curtains
And smoke pours out the doors
As the party falls out laughing
Onto the meadow floor
The air is rich with jacaranda
The earth is green with dill
As the ladies and gentlemen
Of the court
Commence a Spanish quadrille
Arms are raised in laced brocade
The men they clap and sing
The ladies turn and stamp their feet
Let the festival begin!
Copyright ©
Diane Leggett
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