Prerequisite to a Ceremony

We are flush up to our knees
in the downy dew of
silks, satins and heavy brocades
so much finery flowering within dimpled
cheeks

Does he notice my
neck leaning in to kiss
that small region so
soft and delicate?
How it rains diaphanous
tears that pull and divide
tender skin

His cries are like a babe’s
loud, unabating
and lacking reason

He has known no other
so like a child is he
His hands have held the
crop
and welded locks
but they have never
turned the key