Wooden Petal

Pollen again
May time again
churches again

The bride stands with eyes closed
solemn
listening patiently
the groom
with his head bowed
- so ridiculously low
in the manner of a defeated man
he is not good enough
we believe
and this is the message
that is preached

The older women at the reception
tell him
he must grow a bum
to hang his trousers on
he must have children
- when the time is right
what do they know?
they are only grown from pieces of his rib
simply cast away bones
according to oppressive tones

wealthy followers
stand around
trying to hide their homosexuality
behind meagre crosses
bankers wear ageing hairlines and
navy blue suits
their painful baggage
hanging from the shoulders

After cake,
wine
and crème brulé
my girlfriend
kicks me in the mouth
and it stings
and its then I know
I really am lost
in a conservative land
surrounded by green fields
of upper class confidence
and flowers
with bad hair
and arrogant breath

Laying down
I hold an icepack
to my throbbing lip
and bruised septum
looking out the window
I see pollen again
swirling in the Sunday sky
the grey clouds a backdrop
to a lost afternoon

Today was full of ignorance
and pollen
swirling again it seems
so soon