on the event of her wedding #2

[joel]

I tarried long. My alcoholic guise
I trusted hid me—draped with wine-red gauze
about my haggard smile; a niggard’s gloom
and self-cliché of pity – like a rod
not spared in discipline of youth – befell
my awkwardness. I tarried over whine—
and why invite me to your marriage feast
to celebrate your love when I am least
in your consideration while in mine
you rank 'fore angels? What ironic hell
is this, where I encouraged question God:
In whom is woe, is sorrow? And in whom
is strife? And who complains and, lacking cause,
has wounds? And who has red for ruddy eyes?






Proverbs 23:13, 29