A Quieter Love Knot like Keats’ and Fanny’s Hair Woven in Cameos
A quieter thread of memory wrapped and clung
To images, those shins I leaned against
As jazz laughed over us, or we’d sung
While standing side by side; our shoulders sensed
Each other even though they did not touch;
A glance I dared to take at curly hair
Downstairs in Washington Cathedral. Clutch
These moments. Others will arrive like prayer
With hands upraised inside an open gate,
Our blue-veined wrists that waved like angel wings
To heaven, wrists that grazed each other’s fate,
Or like an otter’s slide to coolest springs
Beyond the realm of humid, hottest dream.
A thread of memories snared life with their gleam.