Everything is ready for the wedding.
The papers, the witnesses, the drums, the walls whitewashed numb…
Check on her one last time?
She is supreme,
the sand is rich and a yellow heat is lingering lazy above the skin
Not a cloud in the sweet salt South.
Hush, the guests are coming.
They can’t believe their eyes.
Who made such beauty, just to shine on some forgotten beings?
What a face,
coconut palm lashes rise and fall sleepy, making them giddy.
They take her picture.
They couldn’t bear the thought of her face being forgotten.
They all want to marry her;
one said he will marry her arms,
the other her breasts,
a rich man her cunt,
another her hair…
a piece of her for everyone.
She is exquisite in red.
We gave her away
piece by piece. Bless her, she remained sweet.
As they drove her away, we heard the drums beat
against black brewing in the far cry.
We all looked towards the ocean, fearing if it knows
that the beauty of the South was married away.