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