Alison Wong

Reflection on a proposal of marriage 

after sharing a 2 for 1 voucher to an exhibition 

I was married once, briefly
to a man I met at the ticketing desk
of the Christchurch Art Gallery.
We kept falling
into each other before
the shadowy figures of
Giacometti. “Hello,”
we said in thin voices—
a Standing Woman, a Man
Walking away. We parted
only to find each other at
The Glade, The Forest and City Square.
We were a Group of Three Men
my husband and I and our
marriage—each of us turning
away. Before we finally
separated, I offered
my name. “Graham,” he said.
“Thank you.” We shook hands.
He never gave me a ring. 

Author’s Note


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