After the incident; forever after
as he travelled from city to stone city,
he would look across the crowd, scanning
the horizon and its fall, not for danger –
he never saw the robbers coming,
never would – blissfully ignorant,
he nodded civilly to priest and prelates.
He searched each face for tenderness,
for the long cool water that streamed away
his blood, the proximity of love, so close
beneath the veil of diffidence, political
reserve. His heart, never quite the same again,
would skip a beat each time the beloved
enemy passed by.