|
|
|
| Web of Poets | John Tranter | Biography | Poems | Brekdown | Reviews | Books | Copyright | Web Sites | | Previous | Next |
| A Marriage | |
|
These poems are available in print in John Tranter's Late Night Radio, Polygon Press, Edinburgh, 1998.   Listen to the Poet Read  |
He takes her hand; she clambers from the black car and smiles awkwardly at the crowd of strangers. Then they push through the audience, snow or confetti on their shoulders, equal first to break the tape. Much later, one either side of the stumbling baby, holding up the prize by the arms as they tilt into the glare. I won't photograph the infidelities; the housework, the tired afternoons, the drink, and the scalpelling insults. He accepts the gold watch and looks for her among the gathering. Later they wander through the parking lot, her arm around his shoulder. The grandchildren are displayed on the veranda at Resthaven; but the other guests are watching the TV. The sun makes a lovely show among the cumulus, like a painting trying to tell us a story. A black car idles on the gravel drive. There's something he wants to say - the words are on the tip of his tongue. She gives him that anxious smile, and squeezes his hand. |
 |
 |
|
|
Web of Poets | John Tranter | Biography | Poems | Brekdown | Reviews | Books | Copyright | Web Sites | |
||