Visiting Side B
by Rachel A. Crawford
I am in all black. There is no
music. We perform our
choreographed fox-trot wedding
dance for my sister
a week before we say I do. We
count the steps in our heads.
We dance in the six-by-eight
patch of grass next to the
chain- link fence—barbed
wire sparkles like twinkle
lights at a reception.
My black stilettos sink into the grass
so I dance the routine on my toes. A
cotton-tailed rabbit in the bushes by the
tables blinks and skitters, hops away
from our feet, looks back,
and squeezes under the
fence.
It jumps, hides beneath pink
roses that line the path to the
exit. I leap into my fiancé’s
arms, he spins us
twice and releases me. I land then
twirl into him for the final dip.
Posed, we smile to the crowd
of inmates watching us. The
guard outside stands with my
sister.
They whoop and clap in
sync as if he were her plus
one.