A Ring and a Veil (Second Draft)

I. That sound --
is it church bells?
Air thick with
holy reverberation.

Eyes turn to me
white-gowned
supposed climax
of both life
(a girl’s life anyway)
and the event at hand.
Father’s arm guides
across triumph.

the march the row
the flowered attendees.

And the man
At the end.

The unveiling.


II. That sound --
could it be
the single strike
of some imperial gong?

The men come to tell me
I am forbidden.
I am vice.

Their darkness
shades flesh
especially the face.
Assign me to
veil black,
Cast with shadows.

Blur
wife mother daughter
Cloak their fears.
Fear of women is like
the fear of God:

treacherous. But not
without its verities.


III. That sound.

It is
the shaping blow
of a war-smith.

And this time, the men come
with more cloth.
Not interested
in any threats
or virtue,
not interested
in veils or any
possibility of unveiling.

This cloth has color
These colors seek children.

For what are women

but to be
mothers
to the world’s army.