she marries her

she asks her for her hand to marry

after five years of not holy espousal nuptial

but partnership in civility let’s do it honey

promising to waste no time

using her power of eternity

to forgive those of you who voted

on our fit for purpose existence,

you’re off the hook for being allowed to

judge us

even those of you who voted NO—

so, buoyed up and serendipitous, Pollyanna-ish—

she marries her

how now, our now?

five years on through viral spreading and un-wealth

social distance gender agenda,

like pushing softly at an open door

were we thinking Utopia, pleasing the world?

she and she are still a lovely couple—

brush down our wedding suits

velvet lapels, glossy waistcoats, all the crimson linings

corsages time-withered, concentrating scent and memory

sequential moments of impulsing spontaneity

moth holes a good sign, marking time-moving-on to

jubilance, our tin anniversary