Notes For Sixtieth Wedding Anniversary
By Jane Mayhall
Lofty, but not above it. How could anything so rash happen? The Baptist ice-cream, and a pitiful living room. The pastor in seersucker, red-faced, bewildered as icons.
It was a wild decision, youth and Mercury at our heels. The Parish didn't even have a piano. But wedding strains, coached to overdo (and love is private). The greatest concentration was defiance.
Silence was the marriage ring we chose. The cake I recall was Tastee brand, you barely took my hand. No urge for bridal costumes, heaven opening up the purgatorial rites. And we
all stepped forth, in faith. The worst disasters were golden givers of advice: sausage makers. We liked to think of living without a Name. And quandaries besmote— like Oxymorons.
Because we didn't believe in obligations, we never thought about divorce. And we were blessed. Going to sleep with you at night, to welcome the strange, uncoercive incense of another day.
Buy Jane Mayhall Sleeping Late On Judgment Day from Amazon here.
Buy Jane Mayhall Sleeping Late On Judgment Day from IndieBound here.
Visit poem-a-day.knopfdoubleday.com for more about this poem and to sign up for Knopf's 2010 Poem-a-Day email.
Excerpt from SLEEPING LATE ON JUDGMENT DAY. Copyright © 2004 by Jane Mayhall. Excerpted by permission of Alfred A. Knopf, a division of Random House, Inc. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.