The Wedding Veil
In our family we have a wedding veil saved by our grandmother.
It is yellowed, has small curls of lace woven into it and a scalloped edge.
The bride wears it on her head like a hair band.
Lace scallops are stiffened on the band and circle her head like a crown of thorns,
Or one of those metal halo’s spine surgery patients have on.
Brides in our family that have worn the veil are divorced
Yet we preserve the veil after each wedding,
Have it carefully repaired by a lace expert
Boxed up by a boxing expert
And then decide, as a family, who should store the veil.
Now, it is stored in my house.
I suffer from an overwhelming sense of responsibility.
What if there is a fire?
Would I remember the veil?
The box containing it worries me like impending hurricane clouds.
My daughter asks me if she should wear the veil
And I weigh the odds:
Antiquity versus reality.
My sisters like to know the veil is safe
Yet no one wants to be veiled.
The keeper of the veil
Is the keeper of the curse.