50-year-old bride
free verse
You did not choose me
until your mother bit the dust.
Now,
at 50's
you are going to marry me,
I will marry you.
I am unable to have children,
my illness
ravaged me and I am not a woman.
I have ovaries and womb, still.
At night, just after dinner,
you slipped away,
your legs spread apart at most
to reach the door,
leaving the sound of nothing
within my harms.
You did not choose me
until your mother bit the dust.
Now,
I decided I want
a sparkling-diamond feast,
full of
tailoring clothes,
little page boys,
flower petals,
along the red carpet,
unrolling until the altar,
because the world knows
I pushed boundaries.
At page 6,
they will write:
“at 50, she is engaged”.
I will marry
and my bed will be of gold,
as for the heat of two bodies,
mine and yours.
And since at 50 I’m getting married,
I will be generous, too,
even with ghosts.
