About Marriage

Don’t lock me in wedlock, I want
marriage, an
encounter—

I told you about the
green light of
May

(a veil of quiet befallen
the downtown park,
late

Saturday after
noon, long
shadows and cool

air, scent of
new grass,
fresh leaves,

blossom on the threshold of
abundance—

and the birds I met there,
birds of passage breaking their journey,
three birds each of a different species:

the azalea-breasted with round poll, dark,
the brindled, merry, mousegliding one,
and the smallest, golden as gorse and wearing
a black Venetian mask

and with them the three douce hen-birds
feathered in tender, lively brown—

I stood
a half-hour under the enchantment,
no-one passed near,
the birds saw me and

let me be
near them.)

It’s not
irrelevant:
I would be met

And meet you
so,
in a green

airy space, not
locked in



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