another poem

Thinking about the post I last made in my outside the windows blog, about Eden, made me consider how many poems I wrote over the years involving those miscarried children.
The one below appeared years ago in Yankee magazine, out of New England, before they ended their poetry page, much to the regret of the lovely editor (who lived, pardoxically, in southern California). And to my regret as well.

The princess in the lost forest

Late spring rain.
The two children of my house
watch at the windows
stir the cats, read books

full of bright pictures:
monkeys & peacocks, other
children with the sunlight in their arms
impossible animals, dragons of snow

or wind, bears dressed for tea
the princess in the lost forest.
Sometimes we turn the pages
together, their heads gold & gold

leaning toward my arms
& they ask about endings &
ever after or where in the woods
the goblins might still live

The third, who was like rain in my fingers
never tugs at my hand
or frightens the cats
She sits very still under her cover of earth

& no one names her.