Their vows would make Shakespeare weep
As such, the audience hangs on the edge of its seats
As each golden vowel sweeps them through the wooded glade
Under the bunting, past the towering cake of fairy cakes baked by all her best friends
And into a dreamworld of literary nuptials
This one forged anew
Him, hair ruffled, uncomfortable in a suit, even this one, artfully tatty
Worn at the sleeves
She, beaming, her just-published eyes clear and glinting
In the sunlight which, for them, has broken through unseasonable clouds
A hail of rose petals obscures them in the photos
Red and white rounds cutting half a smile off, leaving her two fingered,
Him noseless
And yet, disfigured by ritual, squeezed into costumes of ancient norms
This is a lasting embrace
