From the Fishouse

(Mendelssohn’s “Wedding March”)

Applause.
Then arm-in-arm they quickstep down
the aisle, matrimony’s new recruits,
parading for the crowd of relatives
and seasoned friends who secretly count down
the days until the war begins: disputes
about which house, which job, which sedatives
will damp their A.D.H.D. kids; the sneak
attacks of Lust and Pride, the mind games played
by Insecurity, and Time’s unending
siege leave so few survivors.
Lightning streaks
the sky. Children throw rice that ricochets
like buckshot off the car, and from impending
rain, the groom carries his bride so her train won’t drag.
The wind unfurls it like a big white flag.