Day Three

We were asked to write an epithalamium, a poem to the bride on her wedding day.  I can't do that, try as I may. It always starts out something like "Hail sacrificial virgin as you tread the aisle to your altar..."  My parents had a better marriage, and their experience inspired this poem - which is not an epithalamium, nor does it mock one, as much.


Our Scary Family Album 

Here’s my mother 
just graduated, looking 
into the lens suspiciously,
her starched nurse’s cap 
impossibly perched. 

This is my father astride 
his Harley, booted right foot 
asserting the dirt road,
goggles posed in his wild hair,
his grin naughty. 
A gorgeous man before he had us.