you were not with me yet you were wearing
your uniform blazer riding the bus
and then the Metro to work in the morning
driven through darkness diving under
Washington's marble warrens of warlords
into your eight daily
hours at the Holocaust
Memorial Museum how many
winters did you
the winters I
slept late learned Anglo-Saxon
left and ran lawless lazed slammed raved
made less than a living professing language
in the woods of the Battle of The Wilderness
hated myself for having a car
abandoned it out west
and yet
we would manage to meet and immediately
know we were it each other's the whole
subway could see us our hands held
solemnly braced on the seatback before us
in the posture of prayer in ecstasy pulled
up through the tunnels electric and elevated
escaping the city the century streaming
high over the dammed-up highways the dark and
sparkling Potomac while over us planes rose and
somewhere beyond their glow so did the brightening stars
--- From Fire Baton
Elizabeth Hadaway
©2006 University of Arkansas Press
