Time. Date. Year.
The Bride's Room, Sts. Peter and Paul, Denver
Monica stands there in her wedding dress
telling me the story of a sleeping grandmother
who shook the walls when she snored
who became a big, grizzly bear
and Monica, at three years,
kept peeking out from a corner of the quilt
to see if claws were clicking
across the hardwood floor,
inching their way toward the bed.
and Monica tells me this over her shoulder
as I am sewing the loose seam of her train
looking for all the world like a servant
waiting; I am still in school
she has since become
a nurse but still remains Catholic
so that all of the
sharp corners of her life
are now well rounded.
Monica in blazing, clinical white
stands before the priest now, marrying
the pearls sewn onto the front of her dress
clicking together with the rhythm of communion
sounding out a warning with every genuflection.
Version -- Hezekiah's Version
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