Nuptiae
(The Wedding)
Little Cassia
was getting married
How strange
to think of my sister’s
tiny girl
going to her marriage bed
Cassia, cinnamon-tree
I felt a stab of sadness
for my own sister Silvia
So long ago now
that she died,
birthing my niece
Gnaeus, my brother-in-law
was a good man
Broke his heart
I can still remember
the smell of the cinnamon
that he bought for her pyre
Gods know
how much
that cost him
And then he went and named
his girl cinnamon-tree,
as if the scent and memory
could somehow
be near him
always, then
I remember
how happy and scared
my sister looked
when Gnaeus carried her
up the stone steps
into the cheap insula room
That was
their first place
together
Her fire-red veil
trailing from her head
She was smiling, and crying
He was strong, carried her good
No stumbling
That would have been bad luck
Soon he’d untie
the Knot of Hercules
from around her waist
Sometimes
just sometimes
I wished
I’d found a woman
to have
all that with
But then comes
little Cassia, to the smithy
I can’t believe she’s fourteen
And she’s all smiles too
Asks her old uncle
for a favor
Avunculus, she says
Would you make me
the spearpoint for my hair?
I swear, that girl
sounded so much like
my sister
Time to give up her toys
and her toga praetexta
Time to do up her hair
in the sex crines
Six hair locks, parted by a spear head
to scare away any evil spirits
An old one
would be all right
Avunculus Lucius
You’ll have one
straight from the forge
my girl
From your old uncle
Tough old fire-crow
And don’t you mind
I’ll make the edge blunt
so it looks prettier
than it cuts
Her hug
made me wish
that I could talk better
Give her a blessing
She walked home
humming
I went
to pick out
the iron
and wiped at my eyes
Old fire-crows
don’t weep
(The Wedding)
Little Cassia
was getting married
How strange
to think of my sister’s
tiny girl
going to her marriage bed
Cassia, cinnamon-tree
I felt a stab of sadness
for my own sister Silvia
So long ago now
that she died,
birthing my niece
Gnaeus, my brother-in-law
was a good man
Broke his heart
I can still remember
the smell of the cinnamon
that he bought for her pyre
Gods know
how much
that cost him
And then he went and named
his girl cinnamon-tree,
as if the scent and memory
could somehow
be near him
always, then
I remember
how happy and scared
my sister looked
when Gnaeus carried her
up the stone steps
into the cheap insula room
That was
their first place
together
Her fire-red veil
trailing from her head
She was smiling, and crying
He was strong, carried her good
No stumbling
That would have been bad luck
Soon he’d untie
the Knot of Hercules
from around her waist
Sometimes
just sometimes
I wished
I’d found a woman
to have
all that with
But then comes
little Cassia, to the smithy
I can’t believe she’s fourteen
And she’s all smiles too
Asks her old uncle
for a favor
Avunculus, she says
Would you make me
the spearpoint for my hair?
I swear, that girl
sounded so much like
my sister
Time to give up her toys
and her toga praetexta
Time to do up her hair
in the sex crines
Six hair locks, parted by a spear head
to scare away any evil spirits
An old one
would be all right
Avunculus Lucius
You’ll have one
straight from the forge
my girl
From your old uncle
Tough old fire-crow
And don’t you mind
I’ll make the edge blunt
so it looks prettier
than it cuts
Her hug
made me wish
that I could talk better
Give her a blessing
She walked home
humming
I went
to pick out
the iron
and wiped at my eyes
Old fire-crows
don’t weep
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