Under winter’s poised boot, 

a field leaping with insects. 

A fence keeps horses shy of us. 

The white one pities my persistence, 

but does not deign to nuzzle. 

* 

The man who fixed a camo throne 

ten feet up in the sycamore talked 

exclusively to you, while we sipped 

syrupy wine and pretended to like it. 

The upturned rowboat by the house 

would hold us, were it warmer, 

and not punctured. 

* 

A stench follows black birds 

like ribbons of sour meat. 

Straw cylinders huge as lion heads. 

Behind one, a fawn melts. 

* 

God commands you 

to love through grit 

because you promised, 

says the pastor at someone 

else’s ceremony. 

Everyone shivers through their vows. 

Woman as Church, Man as Pope. 

We’ve heard the refrain, 

so now the cake. 

* 

The stroke of cream 

on the deer’s chest 

like a lamp at the mouth 

of a cave. Inclined towards 

gristle, I am curious, 

but with you, 

do not move closer.

6 

* 

The bride whirls her 

red hair in a halo 

of happiness. 

The groom gives a little time 

to each of us. 

They have strung 

pinpricks of light 

from the dollar store 

on barn rafters. 

It hails through a rainbow, 

while all the married dance. 

* 

We are told to sit, 

so we watch. 

* 

In the hot tub, we strip off 

our suits like skin. 

Who is the deer 

and who the lion? 

You have auburn fur, 

but I bare teeth. 

The water we midnight in 

black as the rib cavity. 

The sky shuts its eyes. 

The hosts are asleep. 

The two have married. 

The cake has been eaten. 

The dancing has ended. 

The deer has been killed. 

I love you 

without promise or God.