Half-Lies

Buttoned into grandmother's silk gown,
I cower under winter skies
rumble rolling over the church steeple
as the women arrive first,
the men, trailing behind.

You  wait...

My fingers clutch the corsage,
rose buds taut around
one swollen orchid screaming
its scent across unready
breasts and lips.

You want...

A thick lace veil covers my face,
given by my great-aunt
who played dirges on her gramophone
for wandering lovers

You lust...

but blood will not drench my sheets
for my virginal petals have long ago been
spread and drained by unloving hands
needing only a girl-child's body
to warm them throughout the night,

You claim...

so I creep down this aisle,
thinking of purity and half-lies,
promise to love
honor and obey, aware that I cannot,
but too many ties hold us
and I know I will be consumed
by the fire that is you.


Pris Campbell
©2002
revised slightly 2007


Art: Madonna by Munch
Music: Siciliana by Handel

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