Sewage

I saw you float down the aisle

in your Disney princess gown (and veil)!,

noticed the omission of “speak now or

forever hold your peace,”

(I was) nauseated by (the sight

of) a forty year-old-woman playing pretend

at the altar, with her stepdaughter,

my flesh and blood,

dressed as a bridesmaid.

It turned my stomach, seeing

this childish fantasy brought to life,

every fissure caulked tight

to prevent the light of truth

from intruding on your big day.

My husband elbowed me in the ribs

for rolling my eyes so loudly.

And now you think you can shame me–

you, a silly little girl playing princess

thinks she can shame a woman

who has crawled through sewers, bleeding

from every hole, dead rats in my mouth,

spiders and snakes in my hair,

and climbed up through the filth

of what others think I am.

Get the fuck out of here

and go cry about your own sewage.