married

my heart marries you first

and before i know what

marriage is,

it is marrying you over and over

soon, we are marrying our fingers.

hand in hand,

they trace the shape of the other palm,

and our lips,

which cannot help but meet at the alter,

take their vows.

then our arms

and legs

marry each other.

my stride

lengthens to meet yours,

your arm loops around my frame

until we move together

like water.

my stomach pressed against you,

my hips take your weight,

our toes warm each other,

and they too marry

in quick succession,

succumbing to the pleasure of

comfortable familiarity.

and then we are joining our faces

in matrimony;

i have memorized yours

with eyes

that married your baby blues

ages ago.

i marry your smell,

i inhale you in.

you take my hair in marriage

running your fingers through in

in holy marvel.

we introduce our collarbones

and they nestle together so fast

that we know they must be

married too.

it is our minds that marry last,

questioning of all these signs

our bodies are sending,

that these marriages

we are making,

are real.

the logical,

practical side of us

doubtful of our limbs and bones,

unsure of our muscles and nerves and vessels,

refuses to admit

what the rest of us knows:

that this is it.

finally, there is enough evidence

or enough certainty,

or enough whatever it is

our grey matter was

waiting for,

and we take the final plunge

into each other.

every cell of me

committed to every cell of you,

sealed before God

and these witnesses.