The web drop weight of it
over your candled early life
strands obscuring horizons
for easy handholds.

Bead by bead
written mysteries
written knee drop
by knee drop
by knee drop.

You kept your torch behind a screen
of filigree and shimmer
and secrets
in the back of a library book.

I knew you later,
unroped, open road,
bus station
by bus station
by bus station.

Cigarette by cigarette, and heartsick secrets
written at the back of matchbooks.

But I was there that night
in that cabless alley
and I saw
the authority you
called down
like archangel lightning.

Copyright Kay Winter

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