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On Marriage 

You feel the dead at the wedding.
Imagine two families, like two oceans, crashing together
from dubious ancestries.
From the first “I do,” will you be two or one
The most I can do, if you’ll indulge me, is tell you
what I think about:
Look at the figures on the wedding cake.  Imagine
them trading roles, faces.
When they speak, their parents’ voices inhabit them
like a nightmare.
Even the beautiful, the newly inspired, find that the
only way through rough seas
is to cling together, which is dangerous, which
You may feel there is no safe bottom holding, no
release over top, no soft chair inside.
You know it can be divine.
You’ll know when you close your eyes.

Speaking of...

  • A poem by Carla Carlson


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