You even looked a bit like Shelley,
but you don’t remember it correctly.
That night, the fiery hour had elongated itself. It wasn’t 6 April,
it was the same day Helen began her workbook for students.
Again, Love needed two more for his quota of quivers,
though there were 98 names behind the rains.
We were not in church, I was just trying to listen when deft Love
made that red slice on your sweater from arm to arm.
I did not see his bow let loose the world from all I thought it was.
He must have retreated beyond that bright band of motley horses behind us.
Imagine my surprise when I found fletching in my breast pocket!
We had written to each other from inside the pit –
It was that yaw and pitch of Love’s fixed wings, not stars or dreams,
that ushered us down rows and made you match my pace.
That instant my eyes failed me for lack of a simple veil.