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Italian Wedding

Poetry & Prose | December 9, 2013

She stares at him with such disgust,
it turns out to be love
Maybe she’s preparing for his death
I watch the couple fall apart during the reception
Luna bella repeats the groom,
Are you afraid of growing old together?
The man’s an artist
Meatballs shaped as hearts were served
Model left his studio with her knees
covered in white paint
Bambi legs curving in with each step
Bride saw her on the street
Together they made one magical body
An ocean, but a very shallow one
walkable from shore to shore
Night’s thighs wrapped around the bride
she couldn’t resist dipping her hand
under her smooth marble dress,
cupping a bit of moon,
rippling with her release.