I have grown accustomed to life's senseless prattle
sitting across from your beauty, even now,
in the comfort of a flame that nothing can extinguish,
everything so quiet that even birdsong has disappeared.
I would gift you a gown made of stars,
kneel before your parents and beseech their blessing
while thanking them for your creation.
The ring I placed upon your finger beckons me, even now.
You embrace me, offer a sip of fermented plum.
It is not a simple thing, to get used to a husband
such as I, all angles, doubts, creation and flaws,
our wedding songs trailing us like ribbons of sound.
©2014 Christopher Reilley
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