At the Wedding of Blue
The groom bride—eyes
a fine wool brushed to shine
the bottom skirt a fine indigo linen
at his polished boots
his lover’s head
in their bed
The groom bride shaved—
for his husband husband
the eyes of the eyes
where they met their matches
flooding rains—upswinging wing—
Does it matter? How love comes
to a blue blue forever
as tall as bride groom’s eye—feathered
Just like falling in love—the fear of it
when the storms cover its eye?
He paces
—the bridegroom
Will the queen with a bible be enough?
Shall the groomsmen be sober
The blossoms on the wind—magnolias
sprung pine secreting their resins—
the floral scennt—their appetites—their agents
Don’t wait for answers
rising the top
Together They are a point on a line
a fine wool brushed to shine
the bottom skirt a fine indigo linen
at his polished boots
his lover’s head
in their bed
The groom bride shaved—
for his husband husband
the eyes of the eyes
where they met their matches
flooding rains—upswinging wing—
Does it matter? How love comes
to a blue blue forever
as tall as bride groom’s eye—feathered
Just like falling in love—the fear of it
when the storms cover its eye?
He paces
—the bridegroom
Will the queen with a bible be enough?
Shall the groomsmen be sober
The blossoms on the wind—magnolias
sprung pine secreting their resins—
the floral scennt—their appetites—their agents
Don’t wait for answers
rising the top
Together They are a point on a line
as blue as his dress—his dress—
by mother’s attention—mother’s rhymes—
pleated and flatened and sweeping
heeled enough to not eclipse
his lover who hasn’t slept
for weeks—weeks—weeks
glowing—skin as fresh and lush and groomed
His bouquet is a shower of blue and white irises—
of spring warm and humid
together to weather what passes for storms—
how many days did they descend into the mouth of it?
together is only a point on a line
The wedding cake—a sky cake—
feathered almond paste atmosphere
rising to the top What does the sky sing
The groom is blued—tight as a fist wanting to flex
on the edge of sweeping blue dreams
Will the band be enoguh?
Will the salmon be enough?
enough to witness? The sky is a fine shade of spring
early sins—privet flowers uncurling their toes—
a lace of the hour—brided to each lover—
How shall I discover my own love’s love?
There are no answers
What does the sky sing?
To a blue blue forever
by mother’s attention—mother’s rhymes—
pleated and flatened and sweeping
heeled enough to not eclipse
his lover who hasn’t slept
for weeks—weeks—weeks
glowing—skin as fresh and lush and groomed
His bouquet is a shower of blue and white irises—
of spring warm and humid
together to weather what passes for storms—
how many days did they descend into the mouth of it?
together is only a point on a line
The wedding cake—a sky cake—
feathered almond paste atmosphere
rising to the top What does the sky sing
The groom is blued—tight as a fist wanting to flex
on the edge of sweeping blue dreams
Will the band be enoguh?
Will the salmon be enough?
enough to witness? The sky is a fine shade of spring
early sins—privet flowers uncurling their toes—
a lace of the hour—brided to each lover—
How shall I discover my own love’s love?
There are no answers
What does the sky sing?
To a blue blue forever
A Bell Ringing
Partial Index of Early Weddings
At the Wedding of Future Dystopia
At the Wedding of Now
