Shanna reminds me..

It's all about the NEXT poem...


Wedding plans: Baltimore, MD, 1973

I went out to a hazel wood because a fire was in my headbut the hazel wood was no comfort, full as it was
with silliness—cakes and la-di-das. Too much.

And a white dress she wanted, to hide the truth
beneath her belly. White wine and white linen,
white lies and whispers. How can a man build
a house on that— from icing and silk chiffon?
From froi gras? Where to put the string quartet?

It isn’t really funny. I shouldn’t joke. She could
have been more. I thought she was more than this
chattering creature, laughing with the fine ladies.

The little silver trout I thought she was would’ve slipped
away with me, clean and sharp, honest into a life,
with her bellyfull of future and a simple meal before us.
Instead, this awful false night on a false farm, with silver
candles but no real light. Faded through the lightening air.

For a birds eye view of the wedding, turn to page 38
To follow Jim to the birth of the baby, turn to page 27