Poetry: The Marriage-Bed

The Mar­riage-Bed
–Michael Simms
From The Hap­pi­ness of Animals

for Eva 

The mar­riage-bed is the cen­ter of happiness,
            a point from which all things rip­ple outward,
            a nest from which all things learn to fly.
It is the sign of return, part of the great rhythm
            of the sea­sons and of the years.
It is the dream of return, the strength and faith
            that sing of home.
It is the wren’s nest woven of twigs and string,
            the swal­low’s nest of sali­va and mud.
It is what we return to, as migra­to­ry birds
            pass­ing over marsh­es and fields
            dream of the end of the journey.
It is what fright­ens night-dev­ils away,
            even in winter.
It is the tree that grows through the house,
            the hol­low of the tree that has nev­er known death.
It is the crys­tal of all feel­ing, the flower of all
            under­stand­ing, the small con­tain­ing the large.
It is the nau­tilus grow­ing its many cham­bers of love.
It is the sud­den out­burst of one who has long been silent.
It is the idea that a calla lily can be shaped
            like a wine­glass on a long green stem.
It is the heart-stone.
It is the name of all names
            that thinks it is a star and a rose.
It is a conch-shell rough on the outside,
            pearly in its intimacy.
It is a snail rolling over and over
            build­ing a staircase.
It is an ani­mal, an almond, a repose.
It is an oys­ter open­ing in the full of the moon.
It is a mouth telling a secret.
It is a kiln where clay bat­tles fire.
It is the sim­ple hap­pi­ness of sleep­ing on a boat.
These are the walls we’ve pressed back into a circle
            in the shape of our merged bodies
And it will take a long time for the waves
            spread­ing from the cen­ter of our intimacy
            to reach the ends of the world.