The Wedding Planners

We need a preacher who’ll say up in here instead of herein. Our vows should reference calla lilies and the snowy pistils they jab ardently at our faces. Let’s place their linty, foul-mouthed kiss at the center of satin table cloths white as bee boxes and us buzzing like the ichthyic insects we’ll invent: “coddle- fish” finning the air, murmuring for words beyond civil and ceremony, beyond moderation, all our senses under assault.