#Dotfest Young Poets – Jessica Walker Catherine Moss-Luffrum September 11, 2014 Poetry The Fawn Bride There is a wedding in full swing on floor G. The bride downstairs, cladded in winter white (stolen from her grandmother’s closet) sways in time to the beat of the drum, in time to her husband’s heartbeat, in time to newlywed life. I bet she looks a royal beauty a timid lily unfurling under his gaze later on tonight, undressing her stems to a bare, silky root. I wonder if they know, in between sips of rosy champagne, that the sounds of their celebration keeps the hotel bouncing in explosive beats, out of synch with guests’ breathy sleeps. They don’t care. The bride does not care. Some drunken fool has stepped on her train. A muddy footprint appears and she shrieks. She can’t return the dress now, this is for life. He has signed the dotted line with his foot. The husband hands her another glass topped up full, a comfort known symbolic only to those that drink. He snakes his arm around her waist, listening to his cufflinks clink, everyone – “cheers!” – into the light. The bride can’t help but blink causing a deer in the headlight syndrome to begin. He moulds her into a baby fawn speckled with fallen confetti and sad doe eyes, the perfect wedding picture. Jessica Walker