In a blue series towards his sleepy eyes br they slid like wonder, women tall & small, br of every shape & size, br in many languages to lisp 'We do' br to Henry almost waking. What is the night at all, br his closed eyes beckon you. br br In the Marriage of the Dead, a new routine, br he gasped his crowded vows past lids shut tight br and a-many rings fumbled on. br His coffin like Grand Central to the brim br filled up & emptied with the lapse of light. br Which one will waken him? br br O she must startle like a fallen gown, br content with speech like an old sacrament br in deaf ears lying down, br blazing through darkness till he feels the cold br & blindness of his hopeless tenement br while his black arms unfold.