if she had been born even a minute later

(there might not have been that this-moment)


the stars would have aligned differently, the cosmos inalterably twinned



& the precise pale of that mist haranguing that lone broomsman


on that hanging hanging pale blue blue bridge



on that one early early morning in turn of the century petersburgh

( she wasn't one who usually got up so early, was it her twin who'd risen?-)


& that precise locking of iris & -
image



that broom & her gripped cognition



born a minute later, it would have been a different altar'd cosmos


a minute minuet of pure- seeing


.an image that would have slipped off the edge of the bridge


an unwritten poem that has squandered it's line