Mrs London

We were married in the spring.
People kept asking
How do you like it? Do you like it then?

Each morning when I walked down Albert road
cherry blossom blew to my feet, petals
formed half-crescent grins in the potholes
and the cars trailed a tin can procession.

I went to a rural wedding once, the bride
couldn’t stop crying. People took buffet plates
and pretended she wasn’t. She would live
in her husband’s village after the ceremony.

I have nothing left of this tradition in me.
I walk whichever side the sun is on.