Wednesday Poem

Second Fortune
Between what is and what is not
we walked, the Huntress loosed a shot.

Before and after, we were there –
the arrow pierced but singing air.

That, my love, was quite an art,
to be together and apart

yet we, transparent, without fear –
what were we but singing air?

by Theo Dorgan
from What This Earth Cost Us
Publisher: Dedalus, Dublin, 2008