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the broadcast of our wedding was a reward as if my ideas of beauty-- two-year obsession with gold and ivy-- were profound
our foot-long faces graced local television
as we stood under the arch of gilded willow
for that Monday morning spot
in that 33 seconds of validation
they told our imperfect story
of an eight-year engagement
the "stormy" side of your freak softball accident
fractured skull
just days before the ceremony
my dad being overly loud, friendly
no ushers to seat people
guest book locked in the front seat of your car
in video
your black eye was barely noticeable
my continuous smile effortless like
the way my seven-year-old flower girl hugged my waist holding limelight |