It was not the best plan
To convalesce on the cheap coach home,
The hole in her side weeping
Podge, liquefied for the wedding
And her millionaire dress.
Paramedics have taped and revived her,
Stemmed the flow of love handle
Syruping on the seat.
An hour on the hard shoulder
And pity has worn thin for the fat
Of our flushing bride, there are whispers
Of “compensation” and “lost” connections.
Led down the aisle to a blue lit recessional
By grooms in morning suits of green,
No fond smiles here from under millinery;
They see the soaked side of her sacrifice,
The limp bag of her body,
The wings of bingo
Folded over the flowers of her dress.
Nicholas McGaughey is an actor and has work forthcoming in Poetry Salzburg Review, Envoi, Popshot Magazine “Light” Issue and Here Comes Everone.