Nissa Holtkamp

I’m a cheap date, but I’m spoken for. Don’t
Lean in and ask, “Well where is he now”? My
Outward relic, a heist, the great diamond

Caper. See the symbolism? You did
Say you’re into fiction? I wanted a
Thirty dollar certificate from the

Cook County clerk, proof, some flowers, lunch, a
Bloody Mary with a beer back. Fuck the
Expectations and mark-up, the networks

And bullshit. I don’t cry at weddings. When
They marry for love, they spend like royals.
Two established households came together

Two years ago. We moved in. Now we’ve been
Showered in china, fitted and top sheets,
Pillow cases, shams, table linens, wine

Glasses, a wood block, paring, carving, bread,
Tomato, boning, utility, cook’s,
Japanese, and steak knives. Every new gift

A penknife in my heart. Every blade so
Pretty and new and sharp.
                             This is my day:
I’ll walk down on my knuckles in a pink

Rhinestone studded leash, listen to talking
At the alter, virtue arranged on the
Floor behind me, like a bird dragging her

Broken wing. Why worry? The event will
Be fine, the event will be great fun. Every-
One will dance and drink way god damn too much.

I’ll sit on my haunches and smile. On a
Pedestal collect checks and thank people
Like some molesting line up. I should drink.

Charge to the couple, preserved forever.
The graveness of our lives together. Two
Serpents swallowing. Eternity prone.

69 before it’s time, shout, and groan.
A scuff on scotch guarded shoes, the shame to
The family from my tiny tattoo. In

The photos I’m wearing a pink dress. I’m
A princess. You can’t please everyone, but
You’re expected to try. I’m butterflied,

Smothered in orange oil. I always get what
I want, I’m spoiled. This is the nasty side
Of me – my mother doesn’t like what she

Sees. Simplicity and sincerity
Have been exchanged for three rings and over
Priced confining things. Missteps and false starts

Towards decency and rebirth, divorce and
Divinity, purification and
Accumulation. Five said marriage isn’t

For everyone, but it’s something every-
One should try. Famine said of all our friends,
We’re most likely to unfasten. Maybe

She’s right. Will it be no different for me?
Can our love? If lucky, we’ll be married
Longer than I’ve been alive. My one true

One. My wait is gone.
                            I know I’m drifting
Into waters I’ll never understand.
Into the Ganges, bathing for penance

And purity. I’ll drink the entire
River in all its polluted glory.
Flow to the heavens with the ashes of

The dead. They know forever and feces,
Toxins and tendency. They have fading
Patience for whiny white suburban girls.

Metric conversions, western Fahrenheit
To blistering centigrade. Overheat
Dinner, in diaphanous gauze and grief.

Dutiful combustion and pan drippings.
Mild kitchen fire fueled by trophy family
Finery, bourgeois partiality

May be a blessing. If burned alive I’d
Welcome the release, end my vast crossing.
Ascend. It is all over, all is past.