Japanning A Marriage Poem by Irene Cunningham

I hear ghosts in the long grasses, mocking
our deck chairs, our experiments on fare
strangely familiar. The end of the day gilds the van
it sleeps in a patchwork of scrub on the shoulder
of a new road. We turn to face the lake.
Far out, a line of trees smudge towards us.

The muted layers of receding hills behind us
whisper a welcome…their turn to mock
our status, our cameras aimed at their lake.
My eyes look to my husband’s welfare,
the sun sets and I cruise into Tom’s shoulder
thinking of the sprung mattress in the van

the wedding guests, the coqu-au-vin.
The day has been a long time ending for us…
I embrace the baggage of marriage to my shoulder
the weight of the wedding ring and mock-
diamond upon my willing hand. This is regal fare…
this man, Japan, this lake.

I wouldn’t skim stones across the sky on the lake
break the fragile skin. It’s dawn… the van
is warming to the journey ahead. Well, fare
the birds from our table. I erase all evidence of us,
bury the bridal condoms, else they’ll mock
me. Tom eases the van off the shoulder

and on to black tarmac. I look over his shoulder
to catch a last glimpse of our honeymoon lake
a burnished mirror blazing in the sun, mocking
our presence and our Made in Britain van.
Somewhere ahead there is a life for us
despite the past, but, how will we fare

in the tests? I draw up a bill of fare;
honey-roast ham, Littlewood’s pools, shoulder
of lamb, three children and time…time for us
to keep promises, to return to this untitled lake
our love packed tightly, encased in the van,
only creased photos of creaking fashions to mock.

Envoy

A new road, we turn to face the lake
strangely familiar. The end of the day gilds the van
I hear ghosts in the long grasses, mocking.

(Published in Poetry Scotland 1995)