Unbroken • Poetry

sixteen

soft cotton slips over my shoulders,
in the heady heat, air saturated by the sun.
yet beyond the gentle slope of the horizon,
light layers of silk approach,
forming over one another like white-grey tulle,
lined in shining silver,
ready to clothe the land in rain.

and rain it did! the lightning,
static sparks as the fabric caught on stray hairs
upon the surface, bruised 
wounds filled with copper and gold,
lifeblood replenished as a layer of sweat upon skin,
the morning of the wedding sounded,
by church bells echoing into the ground.

this electric love,
a tuxedo of light,
a flashing smile,
a wink of reprieve, like the sun. sin,
for what is most beautiful,
transfixing, light and dark blended like marble,
as if some heavenly body had dipped a fingertip
and stirred absent-mindedly whilst he spoke of godly things,
in the land beyond the sun.

or rather painted, with frustrated strokes,
layer upon layer of individual bricks, walls, turrets,
shone upon with smiling sun,
illuminating white and shadowing grey,
to build a palace of unthinkable proportions,
housing angry spirits, crying spirits, loving spirits.

the holy affair took place,
long-awaited, long dreaded.
an exchanging of vows,
too many vows
angry vows, bitter vows
light-hearted kisses to raining blows,
from one to the other,
as she, with skin,
took the silk and wrung it out with invisible hands.

and the priest above,
angry, angelic,
speaking in low tones,
shaking the earth,
frustrated, and with a fist almost breaking the sky-
to give us a glimpse of his bright face in the land beyond
the sun.
the wedding annulled,
as soon as it had begun.

Summer 2018