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	<title>The Gladdest Thing &#187; Bill Holm</title>
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	<description>a poem a day, more or less</description>
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		<title>Wedding Poem For Schele and Phil</title>
		<link>http://thegladdestthing.com/poems/wedding-poem-for-schele-and-phil</link>
		<comments>http://thegladdestthing.com/poems/wedding-poem-for-schele-and-phil#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Wed, 22 Aug 2007 17:46:07 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>Michelle McGinnis</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[poems]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Bill Holm]]></category>

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		<description><![CDATA[A marriage is a risky business these days
Says some old and prudent voice inside.
We don&#8217;t need twenty children anymore
To keep the family line alive,
Or gather up the hay before the rain.
No law demands respectability.
Love can arrive without certificate or cash.
History and experience both make clear
That men and women do not hear
The music of the world [...]]]></description>
			<content:encoded><![CDATA[<p></p><p>A marriage is a risky business these days<br />
Says some old and prudent voice inside.<br />
We don&#8217;t need twenty children anymore<br />
To keep the family line alive,<br />
Or gather up the hay before the rain.<br />
No law demands respectability.<br />
Love can arrive without certificate or cash.<br />
History and experience both make clear<br />
That men and women do not hear<br />
The music of the world in the same key,<br />
Rather rolling dissonances doomed to clash.</p>
<p>So what is left to justify a marriage?<br />
Maybe only the hunch that half the world<br />
Will ever be present in any room<br />
With just a single pair of eyes to see it.<br />
Whatever is invisible to one<br />
Is to the other an enormous golden lion<br />
Calm and sleeping in the easy chair.<br />
After many years, if things go right<br />
Both lion and emptiness are always there;<br />
The one never true without the other.</p>
<p>But the dark secret of the ones long married,<br />
A pleasure never mentioned to the young,<br />
Is the sweet heat made from two bodies in a bed<br />
Curled together on a winter night,<br />
The smell of the other always in the quilt,<br />
The hand set quietly on the other&#8217;s flank<br />
That carries news from another world<br />
Light-years away from the one inside<br />
That you always thought you inhabited alone.<br />
The heat in that hand could melt a stone.</p>
<p>&#8211; Bill Holm</p>
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