He brought to the marriage
a duffel bag of clothes,
an old clock radio,
fierce blue eyes. She brought
the beginnings of a baby,
her mother’s warning,
assorted fears.
The wedding was a nice enough affair,
floral garlands on the mantle piece,
minister dressed in suit and tie,
hands folded, though not in prayer.
The bride wore white,
the groom a rented black tuxedo,
friends smiled, family
held up well.
Their honeymoon, a trip
bought by her ex-father—
a sin offering, of sorts,
for his neglect,
a show of normalcy
for the mother of the bride.
Now the two have come together,
officially, to build a life
on shame and morning sickness,
on hand holding, sweating palms,
and very little money.
Soon everyone will know
their secret,
hidden for now
beneath the wedding gown,
their only privacy.
Careful observers can
catch a certain look
they give each other,
some small hope, perhaps,
tucked behind their eyes.
No comments:
Post a Comment