Black Velvet Bride

Sometimes, when I think
Of all the force-fed retrograde
I've thrown into the world,
Birthed unleashed upon unsuspecting
Mankind like Frankenstein's
Hideous villain, my claim
To holy matrimony seems
Self-usurped, betrayed
In the deep places, the parts
Capable of murder
Though not with these hands,
But with words, thoughts,
Deeds, the everyday self-
Succumbing and voluntary
Surrender, crimson lips
Creating other lovers, prostitute
Legs spread on the wedding's eve
Defiling the smooth satin
Sheets of the marriage bed,
Consummating broken also-ran.
That bride, when I see her,
Holds an apple in one hand,
Hammer and nails in the other,
Her cheeks flushed
With self-inflicted guilt
And shame, a noose
Around her one time lily neck,
Dressed in smooth black
Velvet, not the white
Innocence you see,
A rebel opposing reason, love,
Trying hard to nullify
The blood-stained dowry
That won her hand,
And still you stand
At the altar, at the union
Candle, beckoning me,
Known unvirginal, unfaithful,
Adulterous, hips swelling
At the taste of my own dust,
At the feel of the very word
Forming in my mouth,
Unregretfully into intimacy.

No comments:

Post a Comment