Deep in the cotton petals of a watermark <br />I see my father stacking sheets of plywood, <br /> <br />his hands freckled with sawdust, his silvery <br />white skin flickering in the sun, my mother <br /> <br />standing beside him, measuring each plank <br />of wood, her eyes like blackberries floating <br /> <br />in a pool of milk. She says, 'There's something <br />wrong, ' and fog settles like an argument. <br /> <br />A Coca-Cola bottle sweats on the picnic table, <br />the petals of pansies curl into tight yellow fists, <br /> <br />and my parents stand there, like boards that won't <br />fit, like two splintered edges refusing to meet. <br /> <br /> <br />-from Tar River Poetry<br /><br />Chris Tusa<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/in-a-marriage-certificate/
