‘The Wedding Night’ followed by ‘In amber’
The Wedding Night
He leans snugly upon her shoulder,
yawns unconsciously,
then readjusts his position and tuxedo
without a word,
his eyes shut;
the lingering smirk on his lips -
another brushstroke upon a canvas
bearing some elegant landscape of
comfort, security, serenity.
Her eyes stay softly open,
staring vacantly at the foot of the bed,
their feet at the end of the bed,
their legs cutely overlapping.
One arm cradles his weary head,
the other drapes across him -
toward his furthest shoulder,
so as to envelop him in forced affection -
the lit, crimson candle;
the cool kiss planted upon his forehead, the wax seal;
her stiff caress of his cheek, the stamp.
Her candid attempts at intimacy
ooze with a worn freshness
mirrored in her crumpled, but rippling, white gown;
still peppered with confetti, caught between the folds.
Her veil, unclipped and strewn across the carpet,
has served its purpose.
Her mind and body are fearsomely opposed.
She focuses, still, on some
thing not
present:
some ribbon untied,
some letter unsigned,
something
to explain the emptiness behind the aplomb,
the hollow numbness behind her painfully
prolonged grin toward the cameraman;
posed beneath a tree of cherry blossoms
that afternoon.
That was it, she thought -
turning solemnly to her husband,
as if to confront him silently with the truth;
she hears the quiet, piercing reality
tolling louder than those thunderous church bells -
I am not in love with you.
— Giuliano Piacentini © 2022
*****
In amber
I tap the glass.
You do not flinch.
Your gaze is glazed and fixed away
preserved in amber.
Now seconds pass.
Unmoved an inch.
Live like a well-kilned pot of clay
affixed in amber.
Can we touch
if you cannot feel?
I rummage in the dark
though I am petrified.
Did we touch
if you did not feel?
The blood I urge to surge
through veins, now petrified.
How we embrace,
it looks like warmth.
Present, till we relent
that our intents do not align.
I hold your face;
I feel your warmth.
A tear rolls down my cheek
and I can't speak. I say I'm fine.
— Giuliano Piacentini © 2022
Beautiful
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