poem #3

wedding poem

We didn’t see it then -

Not then,
in the cool darkness
of an adolescent summer,
boy-hipped and shiny
on the lawn’s green damp:

Nah, not me.
It’s just a piece of paper
anyway.

(The certainty
of a ponytail, flipped
over burnt shoulders.)

We didn’t see it then -

That maybe,
sometime,
(even just for a day)
we would dare to forgive
the vague enormity
of Big Words,
the fussings of white,
of flowers.

Or that one day
we would be ready to make
our own gardens.