As bomb-proof an anchor as any cam or friend.
The book was yours years before it held me,
Before Bedivere by the water’s edge.
A once and future trove of line drawn paladins,
Feet thrust into stirrups, pennants and courage high.
Sweeping fifties gothic, like full-plate Cadillacs,
Lances couched to vanquish any doubt.
And that’s me! And that’s you!
At the old house, or on a beach somewhere.
Pinning certainty to the surface of each print
Struck home with a finger like Damascene steel.