The Robing of the Bride, by Anca Rotar

The Robing of the Bride, by Max Ernst (Germany), 1940.

The Robing of the Bride

I will not be the world’s bride.
I will not have their tongues on my pale skin
tracing the path of veins underneath –
they touch without touching,
they feel without feeling.
It only takes an unmasked voice to make them flee.
I would rather be the red bird of prey
and push away the handmaiden with the fashionable hair.
Then, I would snatch the silly lance
the green cormorant has pointing at my crotch.
He makes me laugh
with his pathetic lecherous grin
He must be thinking he’s frightening me.
I would kiss the crying monster
on the top of its head and say, 
“Goodbye, my friend –
you were always free.”
They only called it ugly because 
they were jealous of its completeness.
And you – I’m looking at you.
Do I make you uneasy
with my bloodied feathers?
Does my wrongness offend you?
Did you think I would cower?
For a second I thought so myself.
I’m still talking to you.
I’m waiting for your answer.
If it’s three times “no,”
then come in.

Anca Rotar

​Anca Rotar is a Romanian-born writer of poetry and fiction. She was driven to writing by her love of stories and verse, as well as by an ever-increasing fascination with mysteries and the unknown. Her biggest complaint is that there are too many interesting things in the world and hardly enough time to discover them all.