Anniversary
by Richard Spilman
Anniversary
Across the chiasma of thought and touch,
nerves write their own language:
an ancient tongue without third person,
I, thou and those beyond the pale.
But when the barter of words ceases,
our love becomes an age-freckled map,
bordered by whimsical monsters,
a star birth, a white driftwood hand
raised above a motionless sea.



What a tender and yet majestic tribute to marriage...