We met between two hedges, a sly
passage cut out of evergreens for dogs
to escape through, children to avoid
by - you already had a twitch and breath
like the chosen one. Something lingered
on you on invisible shadows.
It was not physical. Nor were you.
Years later, I would plant hedges and
wait an age for them to touch, become
a passageway, and I would scour
their interleaving darkness for you.

I have a plague of planes upon me;
they travel such a distance
and yet are flat against the stars.
They draw their shadows on my passage.
They are undergoing an excavation
from that crazy distance, to
remove you from my soil.