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A Black Wedding Dress

It was Bastille Day, July 14
Your child-like outpouring of joy, your dapper black suit
My hideous black crow of a dress 
With your Robespierre tie. The tie is a last minute whim
Like dipping your Missoni handkerchief in my royal blood

Something always remains. A relic, a bone, old cast iron gates
A prism of another self, fractured in a hundred mirror worlds
And light came in -- through hours of luminous pain butterflies
Or we summoned Pan - Mercury - Lucifer
In those dark old growth forests in the Old New World
Something was weaving a dream 
Beneath all July meadow wildflowers. Lupines were a threat
We never recognized and Mount Hood was seething with rage

Transfixed, we watched a coyote rise out of the mists
Tall grass, volcanic lava and ash. His eyes were brimming 
With liquid gold. My God, the splendors of that ancient land

You put me to sleep in a volcano land crypt. You conjured 
A Sibyl out of the embers of dazzling white mountains 
A glimpse of eagles, the sanctifying smell of sagebrush
Is all that remains of your wilderness, your hypnotic powers
Seeping into my life-blood
That house, that madness, that pain

Copyright © | Year Posted 2019

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