POEM FOR MY ONE-LEGGED LOVER, THE WINE GLASS, NO. 45
The bride arrives, a wedding on a wet day.
Under a green striped white umbrella,
Her parents sip spiked punch.
They are present,
But are elsewhere..
He wears a silver-gray ascot;
She, a pink-ribboned, wide-brimmed,
white-straw hat.
They were at a croquet match.
The two were always at scenes from movies.
They always thought their daughter
Was not their real child,
but a hospital substitute.
This girl had never been seen
Wearing a top hat and dancing on a wide screen.
The daughter looked at the sugar couple
Atop a sugar skyscraper,
wished she were in rags,
Hidden with rebels in a field of wild sugarcane,
Looking up at a condor's outspread wings.
Duane Locke
Posted over on Motherbird
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