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  • Writer's pictureAmber Shockley

Hungry Bride

What if, dizzy and low on sugar,

walking down the aisle, you get

overwhelmed by all you can’t

have – not the groomsmen

with their puckish smiles, not

the sweat of the neighbor’s body,

jogging in polyester shorts at 6 am,

or gathering fallen branches

from his yard late evening,

stopping to lift his cap and

wipe his brow? What if you’re

about to spend your life making

gallons of sweet tea and love,

and only one man holding out

a glass to you?

He’s already

downed your first pour in a gulp,

the ice settled loud and hollow,

now you tilt the pitcher again.

What flows out of you as you

reach the altar, your groom

well hydrated and still thirsty,

the preacher smiling like to

eat you alive?


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