What a seal of steel.
That angle of your hip.
That slant of your mind.
An angel woke tonight
to find it first awake.
Polished as a star.
It limped — it followed him
like a turn of phrase
becoming flame.
He tried to choke it
with a stone, to lose it
in the sand, in a crueler
fire, to twist its shape.
It only reddened,
as pure metal.
Day found you as lovers
sealing their fate
with a wound.
The angel dropped
a name, not to reveal
his own. Left you solved
by the fight — undefined
by your flaw.
The duel hung unfinished.
And your name — it Is real,
remained.

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