Half memories absorbed, the ritual world—here/ now, 
yet lost to forgetfulness. Watch: him: a look of love 
 
caught on film; us, under the maypole, the unmarried girls
each holding a crepe-paper strand, yellow, green,
 
braiding in and out of each other until we are caught
in the weave, that perfect image: marriage. Watch: later,
 
in the blue air of midnight, sounds of nocturnal 
echos or merely heartbeats in a too quiet room? 
 
A wedding dress crumpled 
at the end of the bed. A new husband 
 
so quickly asleep. And me, wandering 
a strange hotel room unsure whether to cover
 
my nakedness or embrace it. It’s a scene
that will repeat through the years:
 
a whisper of thought—perhaps
love is beyond me? Though my despair
 
always more comfortable linked
in the blame of others—
 
I crack doors never expecting a thief; 
I open my body never expecting hope. Once
 
the glass of every double paned window
of my skyscraper shattered and there I lay,
 
completely open, the wind shrieking, the fragments
sharp in the blue light, spikes clinking, but I
 
remain open—waiting, not for something 
to save me. Just for the shards.    

​

​

​

​

​

(this poem first appeared in Psaltrey & Lyre) https://psalteryandlyre.org/2024/01/01/pierced