stranger twice 
  
I saw you through glass 
late for a train, or so it looked: 
your face like the morning star
  
given good news, knowing nothing 
of night’s approach; of the shock 
of violence soon to be unleashed 
  
just moments from when 
moments would become 
      moments, 
  
before I turned fitfully out of sleep
and in the glow of the late night news 
      your face, 
too distant now like the morning, 
  
your stars raining glass, 
the last train dragged away
into the bewildered dawn,

horizon collapsing
on new honeyed earth.

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