All is safe with a lady engaged: no harm can be done -
Mansfield Park, Jane Austin
In a fit of pitch the one ditching his surname
in mud flung her bridal bouquet of azalea
fuchsia and hollyhock to carpet the knave
Sleeve of broderie anglaise shut between rowan
door and grave. At cherry tree's hem he slumped
to skinned knees like a felled stump. Head bowed
in a prayer book of the dead; platinum rings
knuckled-shredded tissue among pocket's crumbs
His button-hole sprig of gypsophila, waxflower
and eucalyptus wilt a gypsum of gilt on his morning
suit; as northern cardinals and blue jays glut
on wedding breakfast of cherry pie, bakewell tart
clafoutis. Prunus serrulata bobbed its parasol
and a murmuration of pink starlings fell on his
starched collar; not jilted by Gaia but stamen, petal
stipule to nape of his neck over Damocles' sword
Beaks took his yearnings, kennings, grievings on
pollen's flight path to four corners. But where dawn
crusades its sunning is a woman with fireflies in her hair
Not waiting but walking South seeking late night talking
She has no need of puppet strings
(Handfasting is a Celtic marriage tradition still practiced today.)
Not Even a Handfasting by Mandy Beattie | Poetry Reed Diffuser Set
$20.00Price
