Old Montreal

Where did I want
to go with you.
The brick streets,
the old town and
the church.
You’d think there’d
be some light.
Not this strangeness
in the world
laid out in
of rock-brailed roads
the jelly sockets of
prayer candles
in the basilica.
You’re right: I’m
as a boy — to
I must be amazed
The only certainty
could be
in the
stories of faith,
I thought.
And then
I saw
the arrow
of flame
for the first time
testing the air
before jumping
from your hand
back in to
the marvellous
we each

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