Issue 4: January - June 2005

Simeon Dumdum Jr.


Certainly, there was hatred in her eyes,

But this was just because the wind had kept

The white dove of her veil nervously flapping,

As though aghast at the fragile white rose

Being blown away from its perch above

Her groom’s breast pocket, while we were all posing

For the photographer, who was unduly

Concerned about my height, and had assigned

Me next to the groom, but was quick enough

To manage a shot of the groom and me,

When we both reached down to pick up the rose.