The words hit the page differently when
the light enters my room from the east
letters tumble and scatter landing as they
may in heaps and clusters later in the day
I will find an hour or two when I can linger
and hold them gaze fixed softly on an image
in the middle distance fingers folding and
coaxing the rambunctious disarray until
a gentle thrill of recognition wakes me to a
poem now revealed in its inevitable form
(c) 2018, by Hannah Six
Image: Unknown miniaturist, The Monk Eadwine (c 1150),
illustration on parchment, Trinity College, University of Cambridge
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