Lily Ladewig
Wedding Party
I am asking you
to pour some sugar on me
while I bake our wedding cake
then traffic me
to the dining room.
Inside a pool of glass.
Outside a pool party.
I am loving my watermelons
just as the government
has asked me to. You see,
I am a casualty
of the cruciferous. Who knows
the difference between
Dickensian and dictionary. Who takes
umbrage at an open-faced
flower girl.
Last night I traveled
to the far ends of the buttercups
to walk your horses back.
Midnight. Then Ginger.
And what to do
about the barn cats?
This morning I rained
inside my dress
having left my mother’s trousseau
in California.
It sits looming
on Telegraph Avenue.
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