How to Be Married Think of rain: the gathering sheer fall on a quaking plain. Like a kiss, the long slake. Here we stand in blissful drench. It only falls; no calling it back from here. River infinite, grinding belly on bedrock, paring the plain to a canyon, changing the shape of the world. Love is no granite boulder, praised for its size. It’s the water that parts around it, moving mountains. Nothing new, a marriage. This union is as old as it gets: ocean floor, the wave and shore that can’t be still and can’t come apart. Think of blue-gray horizons, heavy-lidded. Don’t rule out surprising
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