Haircut Epithalamium
Conspicuously missing
My old bones
Couldn’t quite get
To my son’s wedding
However as the occasional
Soothsayer I knew
The nuptials were certain
And began to compose
My intended epithalamium
The summer before
The augury wasn’t a predictable
Demonstration of courtship
It wasn’t when
They stole morsels
From each other’s plates
It wasn’t when
They curled up on
The couch as young
Lovers are wont to do
Forming that single multi
Limbed mythical creature
It was a haircut
She sat him in
A chair in the yard
And draped a towel
Around his shoulders
My son bowed his head
Blissfully a boy again
Surrendering to her scissors
Her precise decisions
____________
David Sapp
Review by Jared Pearce
The mix of contemporary nuptials and ancient Greek rites and prophecy are lovely here, as is the sweetness of the young couple’s hair cutting.
Review by Massimo Fantuzzi
No sooner met but they looked, no sooner looked but they loved, no sooner loved but they sighed, no sooner sighed but they asked one another the reason, no sooner knew the reason but they sought the remedy; and in these degrees have they made a pair of stairs to marriage. (Shakespeare, As you like it)
Not a ring around your finger, but a towel around your shoulders; not a pulpit, not a pew, but a chair in the yard; not an ointment, not a wine or wafer, but a pair of scissors. Time to reclaim the meaning of union, to take it back from snake-oil salesmen, profiteers, priests, florists, wedding planners and, above all, social media. The honeymoon began the moment they saw each other.