Wedding
There is no happy and
there is no ending,
just gilded loss
/ muddy return.
Did you think the plot
was pregnancy?
That this season finale
would resolve on a woman
propped in a hospital bed,
laugh track flowing
into cooing? Spring beauty
swaddled in her arms? Could
happen / not like that. Maybe,
since time went strange,
the grown figment already sulks
in a parked sedan,
acne blooming on their cheek.
Maybe her in / fertility
is not the watershed.
Oh, she looked
and understood the stick’s
hieroglyphic prediction.
Its word was not conclusion.
She is a fiction
to herself. Many
morphologies are possible.
Differences matter /
differences are carried
downriver. Next
twist: marry key
to lock, since seeking’s
all a person’s got. She will
fall and climb, fail
and try. It may be fine.