by Sara Ireland
"Drink this wine," they said, "to find your destined mate,"
Like some magic love elixir, some romance potion.
So I grasped that bridal cup and brought my lips close,
And wouldn't you know it? I spilled it all over me.
"Take this broken shard," they said, "to meet your true beloved,"
Like some miracle pottery, some wondrous earthenware.
So I reached for that wedding plate, that little shattered piece,
And wouldn't you know it? I cut my finger on its sharp edge.
"Hold this lighted candle," they said, "as tall as you want your husband,"
Like some enchanted torch, some supernatural flame.
So I held that Sabbath candle and raised it above my head,
And wouldn't you know it? I lit the house on fire.
"Eat this bread," they said, "to catch your other half,"
Like some Divine manna, some holy sustenance.
So I bit into that wedding loaf, that warm, doughy morsel,
And wouldn't you know it? I began to cough and choke.
"Recite this prayer," they said, "to uncover your betrothed,"
Like some sanctified liturgy, some sacred hymn.
So I said those ancient words, and I began to cry,
And wouldn't you know it? He handed me a tissue.