The bride dressed in white is taking pictures in bamboo
beyond the ladies throned in stone at the edge of river
birch. magnolia. i find a bench beyond the tents set up outside
the mansion. beside blue ice. japonica. spirea. i get a little
sad, thinking how i never had a proper wedding. no dress
rehearsal. just a pretty dress and a contract. i get a little
mad it didn’t last. no one ever told me that the best we can expect
is contentment. bills paid. books to borrow from the library. maybe
a garden.
i hear bamboo clapping in the wind. happy witnesses.
i walk to where
lightning struck the dawn
redwood: a torso like a sculpture clutched to earth. rooted.
