You even looked a bit like Shelley,
but you donâ€™t remember it correctly.
That night, the fiery hour had elongated itself.Â It wasnâ€™t 6 April,
it wasÂ the same day Helen beganÂ her workbook for students.
Again, Love needed two moreÂ for his quota of quivers,
thoughÂ there wereÂ 98Â names behind the rains.
We were not in church, I was just trying to listen whenÂ deft Love
madeÂ that redÂ sliceÂ on your sweater from arm to arm.
I did not see his bowÂ 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 Loveâ€™s fixed wings, not starsÂ or dreams,
that ushered us down rowsÂ and made you match my pace.
That instantÂ my eyes failed me for lack of a simple veil.