Wedding March: A Poem

Pungent, canary-stained freesia stand at attention,
clutched by four slender fingers
and a thumb.

The blossoms fly wildly up and down on a frantic solar plexus,
bucking under ragged in-
and exhalations.

Musky, voluptuous beads of perspiration dance passionately
out of upswept, curly hair and twirl
past restless shoulder blades.

Droplets tease and tickle a tail bone
set afire with anxious pleasure, soaking into heated skin
and satin thong.

Nervous, pinkly painted toe-tips waltz about inside
white patent leather sandals, awaiting electric orders
from a racing brain.

Take that first step down the aisle.
Now take another.
And another.