A girl unwinds a skein of yarn as a promise of marriage; a long line of
ants carries a dowry of gold.
What is a song but a snare with which to capture a moment?
How heavy the bronze quiver, the funerary furniture in the nocturnal
procession from the bride’s house to the groom’s.
The annunciation i s—is it n o t —a coronation?
To consecrate Eros, they proceed through the doorless aviary of an
orchard, where only an owl roosts.
The painting is after life, not of the afterlife, after life as in from life.
As if nude, the bride is the location of concentrated looking, vulnerable
to and by being seen. Look at her.
All the world’s winds are inventoried in the reedy notes of a panpipe.
In the embalmed moment, they exchanged vows making the space
between them less transient, the nothing therein more than