The Bride
Her full veil billows
and flings itself
over and around her.
Today she's a princess
dressed as tradition decrees
for a classic white wedding
planned with her partner
their topic of talk over dinners
and breakfasts in bed.
A virgin again, for a day
and the veil
sensing the lie
envelops her
in gossamer-soft, unyielding tulle
to cloak the pretence.
Other poems by Liz McQuilkin
Five Senses of Distaste
Last Day of Leave
Retirement
Word Music