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The aisle it was long and dark, garbage cans kept the watch |
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The chapel walls were old and lined and the streetlamp lit its mouth |
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The altar was the lesser half of an old forgotten couch. |
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The bride stumbled nervously, a box fell in her flight |
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She cursed her trusting foolishness for leaving the sanctuary of the light |
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A crumbled linen handkerchief, a little girl's fright. |
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The groom followed slowly and the wine dripped from his chin |
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Panting that the holy doors would part and let him in |
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His candle burned with whiteness, stiff and violent. |
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The sound of breath in darkness gave away the bride |
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His eyes said : 'I am the body' - and her's said : 'I am the blood' |
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And as the candle pushed below, exploding wax and fear |
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The handkerchief fell from her hands and as usual there were tears. |
