In a peculiar light
a light I didn’t trust
a light I knew nothing about

in a light I’d have been very smart to know
but was not very
in a light I can’t even remember now

in a light like New Orleans in summer
at dusk with rain just to come or just gone
a color the raw silk of river

in a light steady as her loneliness:
who I saw not and walked through.

Ralph Adamo
from his book Hanoi Rose
New Orleans Poetry Journal Press, 1989
Used by permission of the poet.