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The third time was in that direction    To the south west, two

kilometres maybe, or four li    You can’t see it from here

But that was the third time: the first time was over there, to the

north, at the base of the drum tower    Overexposed in the sun,

there was one of the usual wedding couples: the sheen of an off-

white dress and a black suit against matte terracotta, the traffic

behind cut out of the picture    The photographer waved the groom

off to the side, took two steps towards the bride    She threw her

head back, teeth shining and neck exposed, and he closed the

shutter on her

• Tags: China, Issue 29, Ivan Stacy, Poetry