Kelly Cressio-Moeller, Two Doors, 2024
Mixed media - acrylic, paper on basswood panel, 18 x 18 inches
You invite me to your wedding, so I go.
Your bride is beautiful. In your backyard,
your family beams as she takes to the aisle,
her arm in her father’s. I can tell you are as sure
of her as you were of me. I feel sick. The officiant
makes eye contact with me, gestures
me forward. In front of the altar,
your groomsmen have dug a deep hole.
You instruct me to step down, stand in
the middle of it. Your bride tosses me a gold
bell on a bright red ribbon. Wear it around
your wrist, she tells me. I do as I’m told.
Instead of exchanging vows, you
and your beloved take turns covering me
in fistfuls of dirt. It takes a long time to bury
me. The sun sets as the ceremony ends.
Only my outstretched hand is left
uncovered, the bell drooping
into the soil. You seal your vow with a kiss
as I wave goodbye to your guests, a funeral toll.