wedding dress thicket

in a bundle of promises 
i was the veil & my face was
the sun-stung valley of daffodils.
be brief with me & celebratory.
thorns leaving their teeth marks
across my skin.
a body can become a road
of gravel or dirt of asphalt.
what does it take to emerge
a valuable? i tried to marry
every bone i encountered.
once i had a boy tell me 
he was going to make a canoe
of all the ways i was good
at laying down. looking up at the sky
& removing the blue slowly 
with a syringe. i'll save this 
for when i need to right a vow.
i don't like to make or keep weddings
but i do open them like gifts.
here is a wedding by the creek
& another on fire
in the backyard. raising a dress
instead of a flag. i am 
doing whatever the wind asks.
lace against skin. 
villages of hives rise.
my skin rejects all forms of worship.
i said, "we can make this work"
until there were no more skeletons 
to take with me to the edges
of my hunger. standing in 
the bathtub wearing 
a wedding dress & waiting 
for the storm cloud i ordered
to arrive. leaving a tip
for the movement of water.
i no longer know how to give thanks.
when i am done though
i will make a shrine for him
of tulle & glass shards.
dangerous to the touch.
beautiful, when staring at it 
from a safe distance.