Tuesday, January 11, 2005
The wedding day jitters
And the ring would have fit her
If it weren’t for the fasting
On account of a cleanse
give a rag doll a name
As in other things used
They dream to be the same
As when they were new
When lights did shine
And sprinkle the floor
To throw plump folks
Into a bullfight of love and lore
She whispered the things
That she’d meant to say
In the spectators scrutiny
In the spin and sachet
An eggshell dress wrinkled
It fell to flowers
Revealing the bodice
That snaked her for hours
The blood rush to her head
In a icy hotel room
She fell unconscious
Into the arms of her groom
Never one to leave things unsaid
She cooed to her lover
“take me to bed”
purity is punishment
and that is the reason
for wedding day jitters
and lack of love-making therein.
Combine Harvester2:51 PM
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