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How I Photographed Denise Levertov
by Kath Abela Wilson

on the long hill
to here I met you
in a bright
invited space

anticipated you arrived
and I young poet
turned photographer
felt so much

our college newspaper
your picture

out the window
the city gleamed
across the bay
there were ferries

to skyscrapers
of my imagination
beyond the suburbs
that I knew

you came anyway
probably facilitated
this fine conjunction

a polaroid
in the hands
of this baby poet

I remember
you spoke
of poems
of light

but mainly
it was the picture
I would take of you
that I remember

it happened
I caught
your lit smile
perfect power

your clenched fist
anyone could see
you had a poem
in it


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