The vocabulary of stars differs
here, under the Southern Cross;

there is a crispness of diction.
A couple sits at a table

beneath a tree. White
tablecloth mimics moon.

Candles float on linen;
a crescent of light shivers

on the skin of red wine.
They dine in silence:

watching zebras lap
from the pool; listen to the scutter

of vervet monkeys, fighting
in the velvet night.

The groom swallows
a crocodile, tail-first:

the bride smiles
into her spoon.