Money Tree and Wishing Well

There's the bride and her groom
dancing in the middle of the square—
her dress sewn with a little lace
but never a seed pearl, his sheer
white tunic concealing no weapon.
The rented band makes merry
music out of tin instruments,
and the corner store brisk
trade in coconut liquor and safety
pins, as guests begin to paper
their clothes with bills and
notes. Soon they're plated
and leaved in this flimsy armor.
Soon they'll undress in the dark,
shocked at how naked it feels
under the mercurial moon,
out in the windswept open.

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