The First Marriage
by Peter Meinke
Imagine the very first marriage,
a girl and boy, trembling with some inchoate
need for ceremony,
a desire for witness.
Inventing formality, like a wheel or hoe
in a lost language in a clearing too far from here.
A prophet or prophetess intoned to the lovers
who knelt with their hearts cresting
like the unnamed ocean,
thinking this is true
thinking they will never be alone again,
though planets slip their tracks and
fish desert the sea.
Repeating those magic
sounds meaning I do. On this stone
below this tree before these friends
Yes in body and word my dark dream my sun song, yes, I do I do