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