This is how it will go:
on the day
you’ll find me up front,
suited, heeled, the most nonchalant
bride you’ve ever seen.
I’ll turn to watch
you – nervous
down the last aisle
of boyhood,
dressed up
by your father
led by your mother,
ready for me
to make you.
I’ll be smug,
mistake this for pride.
We’ll make
pledges, you’ll take
my name
and then
I’ll show you
off.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem