Wedding Vows

My fears awakened 
when I touched you, sacrificial, 
kneeling at the altar 
extending your hands, 
beckoning to be destroyed 
ceremoniously. 

Can I offer up 
what Hove most? 

I now listen to your bedside prayer
offering no gold, 
just bread and water. 
You hold me, 
your breath shuffling my hair, 
moistening my earlobe. 

If I give you to God, 
will He give you back? 

Behind my ribs 
resides the map 
to my commitment— 
the arteries and veins 
that enmesh my heart, 
run down my pallid arm 
past my knuckles 
beneath the stone 
on my ring finger. 

Your life for mine. 
I give you my hand, 
run it across your chest, 
scratching with the diamond, 
praying not to draw 
blood.