he thought i was an angel
the evidence of grace –
an evermore he daring
dreamed –
with ink to score
the page

he warned
of time and certain tears –
I pretended not to know
of days beyond the reach of us
a place too far
to go

he pressed to me
and I to him –
in curs’ed rite
of storied bliss
recalled another coming home
with vows of tenderness

. . .