The Cakewalk (After The Wedding by Sandy Skoglund, 1994) I'm not really into this at all. No; something hangs akimbo. Underneath my veil, in the breast in the V of my dress, in the tails of your red coat, in the rift between our unlinked hands, in the first cutting from the union sweet. It is over. I'm crossing over towards you, we can fill ourselves, I know you'll give me the first bite. We'll play bride and groom, the bride and groom who stand alone like love on top of our cake. All three of you glare at me. I've entered into it, I've sealed it up in frosting. I would marry either one of them, put my veil down for them, go to God or City Hall with them, they are in each rose of my bouquet. I hold it far away from me. I watch where I place my feet, hands, mouth, body, for no part can land upon one. They have made a minefield. I will implode from want. You are not the only one I want. Mergers are not based a whit in want. True, I want you. I want you love you frantically, that's all. It isn't you I love, it's you I had to loan. Forget who I ever loved, for I may not join this way with everyone I want; You never join for love, just law. That's what they tell me. 9 October 1996