Wedding Day

WEDDING DAY  (Poets’ Review, 1994)

As on so many nights gone by,
clad in a lacy white gown, I trudge with dread
up stone steps to the door of a vine-covered church.
At the altar awaits a sandy-haired lawyer.
The last time, he was a doctor, or maybe an accountant,
but always respectable, sane, approved by my father.

Now, I feel the presence of the other one;
the dark, brooding one;
the rebel, artist, musician, poet.
And there, as I pass a secluded alcove,
shimmering candlelight reflects off his ebony locks.
I stop.  His eyes search mine;
we know each other’s meanings without speaking words.
I am of him, and he is of me.
I falter, but father whispers: hurry, people are waiting.
My tormented soul screams no!  I turn to run;
the crowd pushes me toward the altar.

I bolt upright in my bed, trembling,
then breathing,
oh … oh…
only a dream.

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