Author's Note: The poem below is one of several “Aunt Eudora” poems that I’ve written when I’ve been in need a “lady of a certain age” (a boomer?) to serve as my speaker. Unwilling to take any responsibility for her antics, I just let her dream on, as she does here.
Aunt Eudora’s Enchanted Evening with Dylan Thomas
Tonight I’ve got a date with Dylan Thomas. How’s that for a spectacular idea, libidinous with fantasy and promise? I’ll slide into a pair of silk pajamas, pour myself a glass of red sangria and raise a toast to honor Dylan Thomas. I’ll sing his soulful songs and melodramas (ah, that lilting onomatopoeia— part Welsh, part fantasy, part promise) . . . and chant with him his childhood panoramas tinged with the implicit paranoia known as “quintessential Dylan Thomas.” I’ll hear the stresses, stanza breaks and commas, the architecture of his prosody—a fantasy, foreshadowing a promise in cadences he can’t keep hidden from us. So go ahead, call it a panacea, libidinous with fantasy and promise— but I’m keeping that date with Dylan Thomas.
©2021 Marilyn Taylor
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