BRIDE 1969

by Sharon Ashton

BRIDE 1969

After the cutting of cake he drives her away

You best get in the back, he says.

The chambers of her heart fill with Cherry B

as she sinks into scarlet leather studded black

This stuff mean one thing to one person, he says.

Crossing and uncrossing her long legs 

 she plays with the sunlight that spills

into the shifting folds of her mother’s ivory satin

Another thing to another, he says.