Scenario
If I wore a veil, it would be white lace.
Not stiff taffeta, but softest cotton.
It would smell of moth balls and dried rose petals.
Through the lacework, I would watch the world unfold.
Past its stitching that gathered into flowers,
I would see the eyes of everyone on me,
intent to idolize me as if I walked on water,
or if I was the lady of the lake
holding my bouquet as if it were Excalibur.
But all I would be is separate,
this pale barrier like delicate lichen
cascading from my hair. I am other.
A creature hidden from view,
as if this man I walked towards
had never seen my face, or heard my voice.
This veil like a box disguising a commodity
that may or may not be what everyone expected.
When he brushes away the veil like a cobweb,
he will find a moon woman, my face the shapes
that form the night into silver shadows.
He will find a still life, a painting of fruit,
he will find hands chapped with dishwater.
He will find the futures that he couldn’t contain,
nor could he grab hold of, all escapes.
He will find the music and the elegy
that will follow his dying breath.
He will find a woman unveiled,
someone familiar, but not unrevealed.
She is not a thread to be unraveled.
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