A
LONG MARRIAGE
My
mother’s Spanish shawl
– embroidered roses
red
on black, with the extravagant
sweep of fringe –
I
love that you ask me,
now, to bring it out;
to
put on the black satin
dress I’ve never worn,
her
Navajo bracelet set
with turquoise stones;
to
drape the shawl about
my shoulders and turn
so
my back’s to your camera
lens, my face gone.
You
ask me to pretend to
dance. I love how you
bring
art between us, partners
in this ballroom
that
so rarely plays music
anyone can dance to.