His voice stretched like taffy,
sticky with sugar-coat and sprawling praise.
We chewed on each word,
our jaws aching before dessert arrived.
Forks clinked timidly against porcelain,
a background jazz to his opus.
Underneath the cascade of metaphors,
I watched my cousin swipe left,
her face a glowing rectangle of refuge.
Across the table, my sister scrolled
through photos of her dog —
posed in a hat, paws crossed politely.
My uncle spoke of \"ever after,\"
his sentences hot-glued with clichés,
while others built quiet fortresses,
their thumbs soft-hammering brick by brick.
The bride\'s smile seemed pasted on,
like the rosy sticker in a child\'s book.
When he finally paused to sip his water,
the table inhaled as one body, relieved.
And still, there was cake to come.