Nicorates
upon meditation when outside
suggested happenings it knew I
would not like, sun-filled spring
afternoons piled up like books
stacked upon books, teetering,
then after attempts, the room
went nowhere, but, I may not
have done – her voice shouted
it both drew me in to another
world yet threw me back to the
one I had just left . . it was the
briefest of journeys, it was the
furthest of journeys when that
afternoon introduced Nicorates
to me; she who cried out this
name cried out no more while
I was left alone with Nicorates
our fleeting glance . . lingering
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