Honeymoon Sweet Poem by Sheena Blackhall

In a borrowed wedding dress,
Charity shoes and a masochistic corset
The brand new bride examines her future prospects

Her groom snores on the bed, vomit, stuck to his lips
The years ahead, yawn like a dug grave
The box marked ‘His n’ Hers’awaits her.

Heads or tails? How simple to walk away
To rub the matter out like an aberration
To nip the union out like a snuffed candle

The coin drops, tails.
For better or worse, a marriage goes ahead