Shotgun Wedding (Anthropocene)
The moon is stamped against the courtroom–
varnished light clogs the air. I’m in the back row,
next to the damp, wilting blooms,
waiting for the groom and his new shadow.
They asked me to witness this; only one
their three jobs, two children, and (soon) one
affair, are bound together in holy matrimony. Amen.
The bride’s eyes shine—weeping that begins here and
doesn’t end. I want to shake her silken shoulders. I
want to tell her she will lose; she will understand
what it means to hurt and be hurt. I say goodbye.
I step out of the courthouse, and the moon’s varnished light
is echoed in tarnished rings across the night.
Max Gillette is a third-year English major at Central Michigan University concentrating on creative writing. They are a member of the English honors society Sigma Tau Delta and the Chippewa Marching Band. Some of their other poems have been published in CMU’s Central Review and Cornell’s Rainy Day Magazine. They are currently working on an original chapbook and planning to pursue an MA in creative writing after graduation.