I Renounce

A poem to my wife. Marriage as blessing and trap, sacrament and scam. Love as chance and voluntary erasure.

They barely managed to put him in the suit.
The bride, the bridesmaids, agreed he looked cute.
Not much foretold the incoming tragedy.
But a crooked smile, already rehearsing its elegy.

“Do you take this woman to be your wife?”
“Do you swear to starve your sins for the rest of your life?”
“In sickness and in health, for richer or poorer?”
“In stillness and chaos, for brighter and murkier?”
“Till death do you part?”
“Until she swallows your heart?”

“No!” Too loud, making the bride shed her first tear.
“No!” Even louder, drawing gasps and cries from the rear.
“I don’t, you fucking aunties and alcoholic clowns!”
“I don’t, you beggars in your rented, sport cars.”

“I spit on your gifts and your polished displays.”
“On borrowed gold, on blasphemy dressed up as my faith.”
“I fuck the wedding cake — rotting vows iced in white.”
“I hate you! I despise you! Go drown in own bile.”

“You hear me, you wretched cocksuckers and pricks?”
“You want another war, despite your pathetic defeats?”
“I don’t, I can’t, I shouldn’t, I won’t”
“Instead I...” He paused, weighing next words.

“I renounce.” Next pause, most sacred this time.
“I renounce.” Another tear, wept from his red eye.
“I renounce their compliments, half-smiles and rants.”
“I renounce their sweet lips and their salty slick cunts.”

“Their freckles, long nails, knee socks and cries.”
“Their breasts, pubic hair, and restless long nights.”
“Their shoulder blades, perfumes, imperfections and lies.”
“Their morning breaths, slutty dresses and twisted minds.”

He took the bride and walked up the aisle.
“You hear me, grandma? You filthy gámosphile?”
“I renounce my money, comfort, and freedom.”
“I renounce my sanity — and the will to live on.”

“This is my vow, not this pretentious mumbling.”
“If you want this, babe, understand we’re gambling”
“I won’t kiss you, won’t hug you, won’t dance you, won’t dig you”
“I will hate you, forget myself, but still never leave you.”

“Then love you, protect you, adore you and breed you.”
“Make you suffer, gaslight you and most likely kill you.”
“If that’s what you want, I’ll wait by the ocean.”
“Away from transactions, nosy eyes, staged emotion.”

“Meet me there, where the sun rises in the west.”
“Where you stole my religion and sat on my chest.”
“Where we kissed, held hands and forgot all the words.”
“Where we became one and created new worlds.”

Zdzisław Beksiński, Untitled painting, 1984