Destination Wedding

Destination Wedding


Drunk as a persimmon

on the wine of Cana or myself, I couldn’t tell—

the old pain and the old dream mingled

and seasickness threw kisses

in shapes upon the wall like shells 

upon the shore outside the conch-

shaped hall in whose pearled hum I danced 

as if my feet were small 

and free of gravity as sea lice.

When above the palms, horns, drums and silks

I heard a creature high in moss-

tangled eucalyptus cry for milk—

a creature not my own, yet still 

my milk let down.

I looked up and it locked me

in a stare, half-child, half-marsupial,

that transfixed me on the scallop

of the terraced white hotel it squatted on 

until sure that I had seen

it dove back into the lagoon 

like a weasel chasing an eel 

ever further into the nature of oblivion.

Thank you for reading The Nation!

We hope you enjoyed the story you just read. It takes a dedicated team to publish timely, deeply researched pieces like this one. For over 150 years, The Nation has stood for truth, justice, and democracy. Today, in a time of media austerity, articles like the one you just read are vital ways to speak truth to power and cover issues that are often overlooked by the mainstream media.

This month, we are calling on those who value us to support our Spring Fundraising Campaign and make the work we do possible. The Nation is not beholden to advertisers or corporate owners—we answer only to you, our readers.

Can you help us reach our $20,000 goal this month? Donate today to ensure we can continue to publish journalism on the most important issues of the day, from climate change and abortion access to the Supreme Court and the peace movement. The Nation can help you make sense of this moment, and much more.

Thank you for being a supporter of independent journalism.

Ad Policy