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This next two sections
I'll read is--

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they're sonnets and
they're from interviews

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that I did with the daughters of
incarcerated men, women, who--

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their parents were
incarcerated either for all

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or most of their
lives, and the dynamic

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of being released--
their parents being

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released and having that
first moment of like contact

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or memory, being their wedding.

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All right.

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So going from like
babies to wedding.

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Specifically, I don't know.

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I mean, I'm like not
a traditional person,

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but thinking about that
father-daughter dance,

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and so I wrote two
sonnets based off

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of two photographs of
one specific person

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that I spoke to.

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One is a sonnet about
the white wedding dress,

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and one is a sonnet
about the blue--

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the sapphire wedding dress
that she wore to have

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her first dance with her dad.

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So I'll read those two.

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"Ivory."

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She belongs to
nobody but herself.

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But hands in the air for
breeding of bloodlines.

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Back closure, a suture of pearls
on white twine, jewels nestled.

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Good in the flesh is her
wealth, laced over shoulders

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by the hand stealth.

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Lift a glass of red,
white, or lift the brine.

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When she wears it,
she's everyone's child.

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Fine, new, protected, free.

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Believe in her health and
what is sewn beyond me.

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Know her crown.

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The two live it.

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The route it takes down her
back, spotless as a future.

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Oh, this gown.

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Even the home she is
leaving is not pure.

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Not the one she headed
to, just her brown.

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Her train endless as a field.

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Secure.

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Let garment run for miles.

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Love is a town.

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