Contraband marriage

Unofficially contraband

Like weeds that dare to subvert

Concrete.

Loving him, marrying him

Prisoner,

Felon,

Gangster,

Thug

Was something

That wasn’t supposed to happen.

Hundreds of  miles from his family/community

The distance was supposed to be

More alienating than the years

Given him

But I

Revolutionary,

Sister,

Insurgent,

Lover

Was something

That did happen

And like the weeds

I dared subvert

Concrete walls

Barbed wire fences

Laws that change on sundays

Sending my husband back

To his cell

While I sat and waited for him

To change into the proper

Shade of blue

In order to sit

Platonically patient

Only to be denied the right

To feel his hand against my  cheek

As we stared into each other’s eyes.

The white country voice

Intruded on our mutual perusal:

“no touching allowed”

And his hand reluctantly withdrew

But they couldn’t

Imperialize or steal

The memory of our marriage kiss

Or how he lifted me

And swung me around

Whispering in my ear

We did it!