To get everyone out on the dance floor.
The cake was baked with ashes.
The frosting was salted.
There was no water.
The champagne had tears in it.
The priest had, like, five beers in him.
Instead of rice, we threw dark chocolate chips
Bitter enough to blister the mouth.
Instead of doves, we released a pack of black dogs
Slavering and hungry with rage, they loped past our knees,
A dark flood of fur,
Before they collapsed, died, choking on the chocolate.
When the groom stepped on a glass,
This time, he wore no shoe.
The bride’s dress was yellow.
Who thought of that?
The bridesmaids all wore yellow, too.
The priest gave a long speech about how bridesmaids
Were originally intended to act as decoys for the bride,
Luring away the attentions of evil spirits.
We all said, “Amen.”
The children were running around in the coat closet
Playing divorce,
Playing games like, how could you?
And, what’s her name?
Jack (I think that was his name) sat on the floor,
In his little tux, when his eyes met mine.
Kid, stop fucking looking at me.
I don’t care if you’re only eighteen months old.
I’ll punch the gums right out of your mouth.
The slow dance was set to “Strange Fruit” by Nina Simone;
Someone had slipped the DJ twenty dollars to play it.
I danced with a five-year-old girl
Who kept fanning herself with one hand.
She asked me what all of this was about.
I told her it was a part of growing up,
That, sooner or later, would happen to everyone.
She started to cry a little, then.
She asked me if I’d keep her company
Until her parents came back to take her home.
I told her no.
I’m leaving, I said.
I’m going off my medication,
Into the heart of the storm.
Isaiah Pittman
July 28th, 2015