by Gideon Burton
A marriage is a mystery, a ruse
of one-as-two and two-as-one, a rune
inscribing and deciphering, a loose
complexity, a symmetry attuned
to order and disorder, bending time
apart and back together as we sink
and rise in changing rhythms, sense the climb
of years and children, feel the ways we think
combine, contract, and overlap, and yet
in knowing more the knowing morphs to fresh
amazements: Have I ever known you? met
the woman-mother-friend when these all mesh?
I cannot fathom either us nor you.
I only know the mystery is true.
Photo: flickr - jnarin