And like our bodies,
Carrige-men take their horses over cobbles streets.
The faithful bride backseat,
holds in the waterfall of skin
so sweet and tender to touch.
The formal arrangements made easy work of
by the smile you wore
when the satin dress
kisses your shoulders goodbye.

The priest; your collarbone
holds the feast together
with horrid prayer and worship
which, to you,
are but kisses on bruises
left behind on the lily white wedding veil.

That kiss, us
minds entangled as knots
tied around pleasure in the stomach.
I become part of your body,
and in this,
far beyond married are we two.

The sacrement,
you become me slowly
and all at one.
Bedside table becomes a ceremony
your vows, my name
in hushed tones and prayer.
Sermon.
The rings;
A ring of lipstick on your thigh
there I have shown you
how much
I Love You
one thousand times tonight.