For S., on the occasion of (nearly) our sixth anniversary

Six years ago

young men in rented tuxes and girls

in diaphanous azure dresses

gathered on the lawn of the 1st Presbyterian Church

in Alpena, Michigan, and placed bets regarding how long our marriage would last,

six months, a year, or maybe two.

The general assumption was, we couldn’t possibly

make it any longer, you so dark and serious,

someone who, according to my father,

“could stand to have a little bit more fun,” and me

in those goddamned too-tight shoes,

half-wondering if an old boyfriend might storm

the doors, objecting. 

Six years later, and now we know

that sometimes, the only reasonable thing to do

is to go to bed angry, so that in the early morning

glow we can laugh at our late-night selves.

We are our best, first

thing in the day.

And yes, we married rather young,

but together we discovered

saganaki, North Carolina, the

works of Michael Chabon, South African red wines,

barbecue, Sonny Landreth and a million different ways

to say

I love you.

This entry was posted in Your Love Is Like Bad Poetry. Bookmark the permalink.

3 Responses to For S., on the occasion of (nearly) our sixth anniversary

  1. kj says:

    This was sweet. And not in that sick sweet way. Actually, I wish you would write more about marriage. You touch on it here and there, but I’d really like to see you dig in. I think it would be marvelous.

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