Men marry what they need. I marry you,
morning by morning, day by day, night by night,
and every marriage makes this marriage new.
In the broken name of heaven, in the light
that shatters granite, by the spitting shore,
in air that leaps and wobbles like a kite,
I marry you from time and a great door
is shut and stays shut against wind, sea, stone,
sunburst, and heavenfall. And home once more
inside ours walls of skin and struts of bone,
man-woman, woman-man, and each the other,
I marry you by all dark and all dawn
and learn to let time spend. Why should I bother
the flies about me? Let them buzz and do.
Men marry their queen, their daughter, or their mother
by names they prove, but that thin buzz whines through:
when reason falls to reason, cause is true.
Men marry what they need. I marry you.