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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
responsibility
our college newspaper
needed
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
proximity
probably facilitated
this fine conjunction
a polaroid
in the hands
of this baby poet
then
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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