#122

The wedding room, the shore. The four laid out in Ocean's grove, the windy pier beside. Spectacled Edward befoot in the water, till Thalatta rescinds what sees. The blind who breed the blind to where the glass is grounded. And one step, two step: shatter, marriage. Mazel tov! Hurray! And the sun, and the waves, and the man and the woman raised on tlilting thrones.

Stephen's mother. She says to him when who's to say? Let's have you meet the cantor. 85? 100? Sara spins on heels, Godless amongst the children. The circular floor, the solarium. The hem of Stephen's pants undoes, no contour to the draping fabric. The hours, not his, but leurs. Laurence, Rachel. The steps that family climbs. And otherwives, there's waves that wash and rake the earth.

Beneath his collar, tie, three medals: a cross, the Virgin, Christopher. For who will carry Stephen past what ales him in these days? Erica of Edward prone, and what is said of him is likewise. A stream or stretch of brine. The brothers, motherless, and each now with another. Watch them dancing on the dancing floor. My God, there is a God of kin, and then there is a God of ken. But can there be a God of depths divine?