Pull the Knot Tight

Robert Ronnow
The Imaginary i

Pull the Knot Tight

My son, Zach, is getting married.
They want it to be a sweet sixteen
for the bride, but of course it’s not.
It’s a stress test.

I’ve invited his cantankerous, culpable brother
never guessing he’d been excluded. The families
are like a disturbed bee hive five days before
the knot is tied.

I reflect it’s propitious that the in-laws-to-be now
ostracize me as well. They’ve invested a lot of money
to make a flawless memory. I’m serene because I know
it’s sure to be precious.

Whatever way it goes, even a fist fight, will be
perfect that respects marriage’s integrity.
Maybe the bride will leave the altar without a ring.
About the dark day

we will sing at a gathering in the future, belly-laughing
at, say, the groom’s dad’s funeral. For now, I’m looking forward
to the rehearsal dinner, church ceremony and cake cutting. The
Shakespearean revelations.