Sticky Vows

impurity
honest,
the white wedding gown
slit up the side of my mocha thigh
snagging on the pine pew as i retrace my steps down
God's isle, feeling His sigh
on the back of my neck,
and between my toes--my bare toes
ran
pure
like the raw honey we poured on the deck
in June because the ants marched in 2x2
--sugared suffocation
and ended up sun-baked on the maple 2x4's
because,
they had to, and
we
had to
acknowledge 
knowledge of
i do's
and sticky foot prints messing
the too short summers
and the beaded hem of my amazingly ruined
dress.

~Jenica M. Corbett