By John Grey
GRANDPARENTS AT THE WEDDING His hair is gray as tidelands, combed where it can be, while hers is pancake-shaped, rinsed blue and black – the past always keeps the young waiting, goes button to button. hem to hem, asks the mirror for a favor – none granted – rubs the red out of eyes, the grave from cheeks, in case the photographer sets off an alarm – come the hour, they’ll bury heads in flowers, mutter “how beautiful” – standard fare for weddings or funerals.
John Grey is an Australian poet, US resident, recently published in Orbis, Dalhousie Review and the Round Table. His latest books, Leaves On Pages and Memory Outside The Head, are available through Amazon.
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