She danced with her father in the
Dimly lit
Translucent reception hall
And it was like a
Stained glass window and an unwashed pane were slowly fusing together
Never had they seemed so fragile before

Now she’s healing in New Zealand and he’s living with his new girlfriend
But that’s okay
Because no one wants to dance with her father anyway

I’ve outgrown the dress on which the stained glass light impressed itself
That night
Sculpting permeable shadows out of silky wisps of sun
Artistry is forever done
Done
Done

So she danced with her father
And I cower in the car and
Relinquish my insights about why they’re not fusing
Anymore
She claims I’m wise
But the opacity of the union hints at oncoming demise