joyous and assured.
The county seal on the marriage license
flashes a golden tribute to the couple
in the April morning sunlight.
Her cherry-blossom capris strut in time
with his pleated, baby-blue trousers.
Yet, what of this insurrection forming
amid the strands
of her prized, auburn crown?
"Do not be ridiculous!" the bride protests,
stumbling over the threshold.
She is twenty-two years old,
cheeky and incandescent.
Her sterling chime bracelet dazzles the songbird.
The sunflowers and marigolds
stand at attention when she passes.
In the courtroom, he testifies
to a conspiracy
of mutinous white hairs.
She refuses to concede,
so he plucks a pair ─ his and hers ─
and enters them into evidence.
"Now," he declares,
"we both wear true love's noble reward."
To which she replies,
would he kindly shut the hell up?!
The gavel smacks.
They face one another,
startled and stripped of grandeur,
held at once
by the dread of retreat
and a promise of something divine.
Each surrenders a vow
to the splendid unknown.
In the courtroom, he testifies
to a conspiracy
of mutinous white hairs.
She refuses to concede,
so he plucks a pair ─ his and hers ─
and enters them into evidence.
"Now," he declares,
"we both wear true love's noble reward."
To which she replies,
would he kindly shut the hell up?!
The gavel smacks.
They face one another,
startled and stripped of grandeur,
held at once
by the dread of retreat
and a promise of something divine.
Each surrenders a vow
to the splendid unknown.
