14/11/2016 An imagining of a chance encounter written from two perspectives

She passes by you on the street,

He is new to you,

an unknown quantity.

She was.

His skin brushes your arm

as you jostle through a crowd,

your hairs rise,

like static from her touch.


Who is this spellbinder?


Your head turns as your breath catches,

as if snagged like a crochet jumper

on a stray branch,

your eyes are snatched

as if by a crow...

and she walks on,

and he doesn't look back.


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