Geraldine Matus
Geraldine writes to save her sanity and sense of humour, and loves the joy of words being born through the imagination's eye.
POEMS
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I am dressed in bridal white, India cotton worn to the softness of cirrus clouded skies against the implacable shores of our relationship, where I am washed up once again against you well groomed in formal black; just beginning to fray, grey, at the edges of composure. We preside at the altar of our bodies' union, not in celebration, but with a spirit of good will; and there a libation spill, distilled from bloodied rivers of our endurance. Before two communion patens; one of polished silver one of burnished gold, empty but for scattered crumbs, which we dare not eat should we be left bereft of even these reminders of our wedding feast, we raise our glasses to the hope of breaking bread together once again. |