In every life,
there’s a moment, or two.
The curve of your neck
out of that corduroy man’s shirt,
of autumn; change.
How unaware you were
that our child-like lives had just changed.
That’s not quite the right word.
They rearranged themselves
Into a new pattern, the right one.
Like random iron filings on paper
Which, when a magnet comes near,
Spring instantly into order,
Obedient to the
Truth of an invisible force.