potato salad

she kept her wedding
dress
in a see through bag
in a cedar closet.
sometimes she'd take it
out and unzip
the long zipper and try
it on again.
she'd stare at herself
in the long mirror,
turning to the right,
then left.
pacing, as if down a long
church aisle.
sometimes her husband
would come into
the room and see her
walking around in the dress.
are you nuts, he'd say.
come one we're late
for the picnic, I thought
you were making
potato salad.