skipping grace

you tell me about our cousin's wedding,
about the dance floor melting into bright
red mixed drinks & the church service
that didn't count for sunday mass (you were
rightfully disappointed). i didn't go,
i made a spectacle of not-going even though,
secretly, i really enjoy the notion of weddings.
i am a lover of a rituals especially when
they distance themselves from their meanings.
white is prone to staining like my pelvis &
i think i accidentally wrote my vows three
years ago on the walls of the park bathroom. 
what makes something a promise, then? i hope nothing. 
you complained that no one said grace & 
i asked if it comforted you to know that
your brother never says grace either. i said
that to be funny because i think i do say grace
because sometimes before i eat alone at the wooden
desk in my bedroom, sometimes i feel thankful for
small things like cherry tomatoes & zucchini
sliced into cubes. what counts as a prayer?
sometimes i take the 1/2 measuring cup
& fit the whole chapel inside. it's a sunday 
morning & i see you in a pew & i'm here 
at the altar of a paper plate where god
will also lay down & become a sliced banana. 
you asked me if you think any
of us will ever get married & i inform 
you that i've been planning the wedding
for years. it's in a tiny jewelry box 
that i'm currently keeping in the trunk
of my car (there's no place for it indoors).
inside there's no church but there is
wedding cake samples all lined up in a row--
wading waist-deep into frosting. i tell
you about my idea for sugar baptisms-- that
none of us Catholics love ourselves enough--
it's part of the deal, a healthy sense 
of shame. you ask if any of us are
going to fall in love like that--
& i don't tell you that i think i 
might have already. i don't tell you 
because you're eighteen-- when you're
older-- when you're older. inside me wedding
there's no rings but there are ivy plants
& the ivy plants grow in loops around
your fingers if you stay still long enough.
i might invite you-- i might. i haven't
made up my mind yet. no, this isn't
that cliche where i tell you that 
the wedding in the jewelry box is 
just for myself & i. i don't really know
what it's for yet. there's not all that
much space though. i don't even know
if i could fit, let alone the family.
i do want to promise you, for certain,
that we will be skipping grace. 
there's too much grace here anyway.