Tomorrow we rehearse

the day after, the lines

and vows and music;

tomorrow we prepare

the wedding of families

in an old house revived

for traditional occasions;

tomorrow we commence

a ceremony expanded

across dinners, cities,

and states; but my gut

isn’t following the hands

extended; my heart isn’t

ready for the wintry cold;

and when my mind’s eye

opens, looks around

at crowds eddying close,

only then I recognize

the quicksand swallowing

my Achilles’ tendons,

already devouring

my nerve-bitten feet.


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