» Poetry
Wedding Season
Free again, my panther
life takes off fast—palmettos
and snakes in the path.
The beautiful sea grape
is aging like it’s winter;
leaves of talkative platters,
some big as my hand, still
grow heart-red veins
but have gone soft
and pale at the edges.
My very last husband
sheds his brave persona
and slithers into the bamboo
for good. Leaving
him there, I remember
that on nights like this,
thousands of baby
sea turtles hatch
and make their determined
way to the water. Life
goes on, the planet sings,
unaware of all our betrayals.
The waves swell
and collapse. I hear
the corks and lantern-lit
shouts of new wedding
feasts all over this ringing
world. If champagne comes
in midnight blue, I’ll toast
their tight bouquets of joy
as clouds bubble
against the sky in
their incessant kissing
with the moon.
Glowing sand pushes
up from every step
like sifted white
hills of cake flour,
the only light for miles.
Please also see Russ Kesler’s review of Susan Lilley’s book Venus in Retrograde, in which this poem later appeared.