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120 pages, Hardcover
First published September 1, 2002
The drive back home,
just the two of us, end of a work day. He'd steer
with one hand at twelve o'clock and
an elbow out the open window. No one
ever born had hands I'd ever rather feel
enclosing mine. Then. Now. The day
the son we named for him was born.
There was no place to hide.
I was brought into another life
and began to live with grief,
for Arthur knew. He knew me as he knew
each single star that swung about like
pointers to his north.
...
I see them on a forest path,
riding together. Dappled, autumn
leaves, a slanting sun just risen.
Or in battle side by side
with bloodied swords,
in the hard north. Or talking
a winter night away beside a fire
in a kingdom that has not fallen.