Tarn

Tarn

I watched a friend marry on Sunday. Warm green tarn. 

Cold water on ice. We sizzled in an iron skillet.

To be honest, I don’t know the groom, and perhaps I don’t want to- 

so I didn’t watch him. I mean, my fix was on her.

I saw her, diamond girl playing dress-up, cast into her big day. 

We all fill spaces for one another. Hold spaces. Rock and adore.

We intertwine. And un-twine. Lend a hand. Drop a napkin.

Make a stitch. Hold it down. Tie a knot. Watch it

fuse two pieces of fabric together.

See as the knot slips. Let it go. Let it dangle. Loose thread.

It may sound like my view of her day was selfish. But 

really that’s all we can do. Watch. Bear witness.

She did for me. I did for her. Now she will make stitches 

with this boyish man who loves her.

You see, she was our first who cared for my child when his father and I weren’t doing that, anymore, together. So – to me- she was. A bobbing buoy, curly sheep, pencil to paper, make-shift family.

BK sept 2016