Crab Orchard Review Vol. 12, No. 2, our

Leslie St. John
After Epithalamia
Empty the hope chest of its dishes.
Leave Christmas ornaments wrapped
in newspaper. Close the wedding album.
No, keep it in the corner of the crawl
space in the attic. Rubber-band the cards
that say how to love and for how long.
If the toaster makes you cry—silliest
birthday gift—its blink-on red light
and tray of burnt bread crumbs,
eat cereal for breakfast instead.
Spend an afternoon on the phone
with your bridesmaids,
the one with new breasts, the one
with a farm and kids and pigs,
the one who dances and doesn’t talk
to you anymore, the one getting married.
Admit that you can’t be in her wedding.
Hang up the phone before she answers.
Tell the groom you love him like
birds love iced-over powerlines.
And it’s okay if you both keep
looking to the accompanist,
surprised by the piano’s flatness,
handful of stones falling into sand.
Crab Orchard Review ◆ 183