APPOLONIA REMEMBERS HER WEDDING DAY

I put dandelions in my hair that morning
and my sister laughed at me.
She never liked dandelions, your aunt
called them weeds and wanted to uproot
them from her yard. Never saw their
blanketed beauty, the way each one swayed
differently in the wind. She wanted me
To wear white roses but I didn’t feel that pure.

They paraded me around the town
like a statue of the Virgin on holy days–
that was the way back then.
All the women watching as I walked
through the cracked streets, purposely
kicking up dust to dirty myself.

It was so hot that day that even the birds refused to sing.
Maybe I would have run if it were cooler.
I imagined it–
I wouldn’t even lift my dress.
I’d let the sheer tails of fabric follow me
like a flag flapping in the wind.
They’d know how I felt then.

But I stayed–
knelt at the Altar
and promised to live.

Your father was a good man,
already married and widowed;
they thought I could love him,
so he took me in.