Rain falls on our wedding day.
We say it doesn’t matter, we have each other. We have umbrellas.
Swallows and merlins fall from the sky, landing with small thumps on the grass.
Wallpaper falls from the walls in sheets and slides to the mould-patterned floor. Handles fall from doors, bowls slip off shelves. In this new damp world everything is falling down or falling apart.
Except us. We peg out our lives on washing lines. We let ripe peaches slither down our throats. We watch the rain fall. We hold hands as the water levels rise.