i want to draw wedding dresses,
draw pounds and pounds of white taffeta
(imagine how much netting it takes to weigh a pound!)
i want to traipse delicately
down the imaginative aisle, shall i have
roses or lillies or daffodils my bridesmaids can pick for me
in the fields where i am married barefoot--
i want to rub the earth against my skin.
all drenched in clean and white, i want to
roll in mud and walk away stark bright
and get into my horse-drawn carriage.
in this carriage my new husband takes my hand,
calls me Mrs. His Name, takes my roses lillies daffodils
and lays them aside (replaced with champagne,
i will drink, i will drink and be full with his cup.)
i am the virgin, dressed in white, who
waltzes on the dancefloor surrounded by cousins,
who survived stained shadows and wood pews and
heads that turn to judge, then murmur.
i am the ancient whore who carries
bubbles in my corset, bubbles full of intoxication
that burst when loved or wanted, i,
i am the virgin ready to be broken
who waits for time to carry my name away.