Tuesday, June 6
IN DEFENSE OF MARRIAGE Marry the black horse stuck Dumb in her humble corral. Marry the white fences; marry the fenceless Moon and the defenseless sky. Marry the feedlot and the threshing floor. Like the northern heaven to the southern stars, marry the kitchen table, its three strong legs. Marry the gate and the small intricate cuts on the key and the view spreading out back. The street lamp weds the morning light, like that, take the Nomad. Promise to forsake. Give in to the cistern full of asters. To the way the beloved story goes: her body from a bone. And her soul out of nothing. In a slowly spoiling month find out you have married the house worn blue on the yellowing hill: each of its slow budding bedrooms. Marry one or two or three varieties of light, in three or four different lifetimes. I meant, windows. Mate, be forsaken. I married the way moths marry. I married hard. (Olena Kalytiak Davis)