Part 1: The [Sea] Shells of Marriage
Marriage is the rising and falling
of ocean tides--
the refusal to stop crashing
into the shorelines.
keeping it all in motion,
finding its way back to land
each time it’s thrown into the ocean.
Marriage is not a souvenir conch shell,
hand-picked from a boardwalk bucket.
It’s cracked and rough-cut,
sandy and rugged--
proof that it’s been someone’s home.
Part II: The [Shotgun] Shells of Marriage
Sometimes, marriage is a magazine of bullets
rigged to explode--
finger resting on the trigger,
ready to lock and load.
It’s short fuses ready to ignite,
or going out guns blazing.
It’s making up after every fight,
but evidence found in the brass casings.
It’s promising to help sweep up the shrapnel
each and every time.
But sometimes, marriage is a shotgun shell,
left at the scene of the crime--
proof that shots were fired.