THE CEREMONY

Image result for wedding in renaissance painting

Because I love you

I want to say to you how I love you so you can be loved.

Love needs to be love before it can love—

But these preparations for love,

In a soul like mine, lag behind what I already did.

Once life is over, the person emerges,

The eyes which look at you, the sun and everything purges.

Though it now seems a dream, I loved you already,

Not in philosophical discussions with myself in bars

As other inebriated dreams sentimentalized their life in cars,

No, I loved already, past adolescence, your entire, presentable life,

The handbag, the job, the suppression, you, the responsible, real, but unloving wife.

I took you in my arms; I feasted on your eyes, I glimpsed, and then had,

I loved you in the ceremonial manner

That was halting, predominant, not good, admissible, but not bad,

Traditional, ambulatory, anticipatory, banter already occupying a cloud of desire,

Heating up Littlefield’s, the folly made of crimson, paper in and made to resemble fire,

As we joked that this would be a dream inside a dream to top all dreams,

The thing happening in various locations, our talk. But now it seems

The heated circus stunts and daring cloud of stars, now forgotten and old,

The horror of the novel lost, things erased, every detail gone cold,

I want to love you again. Nothing is old. It’s still the same.

Other things get old; not love, the cliché, not love, the flame.

But now, giving up a role to play, I’ll know what to do.

Before I loved the ceremony, not you.

 

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