The ceremony itself was rather queer.
A general exchanging of rings.
The gaiety a little forced
But all the conventional forms closely observed.
The speeches:
“Not losing but gaining a son”
“A toast to the bridesmen”
“May all their troubles…”
(But that was too much, and in very poor taste).
A quick recovery
The conventional songs;
“For he’s a Jolly Felater”
“Why was he bum so beautiful, why was he bum at all
So nearly a typical Aussie wedding.
Mateship carried to its illogical conclusion.
And yet
From the heights of hetero-chauvinism
Looking at these, the so desperately gay
I am troubled at the resemblance to maudlin RSLers
Protesting undying devotion to their dead mates.
“Dja remember old Snowey?
“A beaut bloke Snowey – Wunna the best!”
Indulging symbolic homosexual necrophilia
As they raise their glasses to a long dead corpse
Loving him for being dead.
And these – the living
The Gay Guests
Celebrate the unlikely union of two lonely souls
Seeking the unseekable.
And troubled I steal silently away
Perplexed and troubled.

H.St.V.B. circa 1980