On Your Wedding Day
a toast
. when i was seventeen i still lived or perished by the promise
. so when you twined my ring finger knotted it tight and said this means
. we’re married now I believed you because that day in the morning
. down in the brook we sloshed up to our knees in cold then dampened
our steps as we neared the resting trout your hands swirling the wet
river dust
river dust
. part of the spell to calm the slow gulping column of muscle sleeping
in the dirt
in the dirt
. that let you raise it to the world of no suspension while it held its breath
. and you placed my hand along yours along the body and stilled me
. and taught me that pulses and heartbeats could be felt if you dimmed all
. else to the singularity in front of you
Stephen Barichko is a writer from Terryville, CT. He lives on his farm in Terryville with his wife.
Causeway Lit 