3.
Outdoor Wedding
With rhymes in mind about the length of a road
and the depth of a sea, they enter stage left.
Nymphaeaceous bridesmaids process under
the egg white chuppah, Handel's "Fireworks" playing:
"My lily my love my turtle dove",
in this oleoresinous, oligomerous glory.
Here is the apple's landscape, the pear's clarion.
Children gather, with turquoise coats and white hats,
as morning birds chirp drops of sweetness
and fresh honey newness
among beds of pansies with bloodstains of red, red tulips.
On the earth we walk as immortals,
smothered with wealth, hearts pierced by
opulence, eating sausage rolls, gateaux, delicate
sandwiches and cream cakes.
Teeming throngs pour into the desert's cup,
diluting the spider's web coagulation.
Intolerant of the sins of the previous generation,
as immortals we walk on the earth's face.
**