The Body of Poetry: Essays on Women, Form, and the Poetic Self

Encounter

Encounter Then, in the bus where strange eyes are believed to burn down into separate depths, ours mingled, lured out of the crowd like wings—and as fast, as blurred. We brushed past the others and rose. We had flight to learn, single as wings, till we saw we could merge with a turn, arching our gazing together. We formed one bird, focussed, attentive. Flying in silence, we heard the air past our feathers, the wind through our feet, and the churn of wheels in the dark. Now we have settled. We move calmly, two balanced creatures. Opened child, woman or man, companion with whom I’ve Bown through this remembering, lost, incarnate love, turning away, we will land, growing more wild with solitude, more alone, than we could have known. 177 Originally published in Eve (Story Line, 1997) ...