The Baton

Verbal, verb-less, jabs of manifold colour
crimson, gleaming gold and darkling
from sisters of the cross of the familial kingdom

arches of the eyebrows, with pits and crests on the turbulent waters of marital seas
bobbing sisters, aunts, nephews, and nieces,
and, of course, the sword boats of friends and friends’ wives
flaunting the pioneers’ flag before her

idiolects, dialects, and question tags of myriad tones
a kaleidoscope of the nuanced communique
prick the bride’s ego
as a premature bursting of birthday balloons by green children
startles a toddler into bawling.

Romance of the hearts
tornadoes the deep seas of custom
unequal bonds between men and women
quiets the currents of waters
and comforts stale men and women

break the baton that breaks the backs
of wings of delight and friendship
of Loves that can brave
the wrongs of ancient right
and fight the good fight.