Wedding
Her white dress waits in readiness
for a happy ever after,
and falling backwards into sleep
she dreams she is present
at the robing of the bride. But soon
there is something not quite right:
her mother is standing out of line
disturbing the family picture,
there is lipstick on her teeth
and the glint of glass
from a gin bottle in her hand.
Father's anxious twitch plays
on his smile as his hand,
like a fat, white slug,
squirms its way into the
unbuttoned blouse of a distant cousin.
And that is not confetti in the air
but shreds of letters she dare not read.
The groom is kissing a woman
whose hair flames like a burning bush;
red rivers of sinful curls
pour over his arms
and from underneath her scarlet dress
a garter flashes.
Holding a saw he tells his bride
'It's all done with mirrors',
and adjusting his black moustache
he turns to the guests and announces:
'This is the Vanishing Woman'
as he moves her legs to one side.
Her own hair hangs like broken cobwebs
while from out of her empty shoes
her toes protrude. And it may be
a trick of the light, but
what has he done with her head?
She hears her grandmother scold her:
'It's bad luck to put shoes on the table'.
Her white dress waits in readiness
for a happy ever after,
and falling backwards into sleep
she dreams she is present
at the robing of the bride. But soon
there is something not quite right:
her mother is standing out of line
disturbing the family picture,
there is lipstick on her teeth
and the glint of glass
from a gin bottle in her hand.
Father's anxious twitch plays
on his smile as his hand,
like a fat, white slug,
squirms its way into the
unbuttoned blouse of a distant cousin.
And that is not confetti in the air
but shreds of letters she dare not read.
The groom is kissing a woman
whose hair flames like a burning bush;
red rivers of sinful curls
pour over his arms
and from underneath her scarlet dress
a garter flashes.
Holding a saw he tells his bride
'It's all done with mirrors',
and adjusting his black moustache
he turns to the guests and announces:
'This is the Vanishing Woman'
as he moves her legs to one side.
Her own hair hangs like broken cobwebs
while from out of her empty shoes
her toes protrude. And it may be
a trick of the light, but
what has he done with her head?
She hears her grandmother scold her:
'It's bad luck to put shoes on the table'.
