Drums will resound in
diamond ears,
Silk creases will interrupt your view,
As you clutch rose petals and rice
Step on your neighbour's feet
To watch a golden thread being tied and knotted.
Then you will move towards
the steps
With the pink parcel in your hand
(Your last anniversary gift recycled)
Flash an embarrassed smile
And prepare for the bright video light.
Once given the pink parcel
will lie
Under the bridal bed that night
In a sack with other well-meaning, sad and useless gifts.
At 3:30 am when the couple
lie in slumber
(Having sacrificed love for sleep)
The clock you wrapped in pink
Will screech a terrible alarm from under the bed.
The groom and bride will
be startled and afraid
He will grope for the switch, get down
On all fours and look for the unending sound.
There will be two sacks and 74 gifts.
Each will be held to
bejeweled ears
Shaken by ringed hands amidst
The shrill din in the astonished night.
Then the pink flowered
wrapping paper
(Carefully wrapped to conceal old tape marks)
Will be ripped and torn to shreds
The battery you thoughtfully included
Will be pulled out and thrust to the ground.
The piercing siren will stop abrupt.
And then the groom will
look at the bride
She will smile and they will laugh
At the gaudy gifts strewn around a flower bed
They will be awake to more than each other
And not sleep the rest of the morning.
- Perhaps yours will be their best gift yet.
