Like a Prayer—<i>Phormium tenax</i>

How that late sabbath afternoon you sat cross-legged on their lawn, Elder S at your side, the couple just across, backs to her summer garden— conversation meandered like two months in town—you and rambling metal roads along harbor, through coastal bush, seeking strangers God— words now hush behind memory but giving lingers— mid-story she turned plucked a flax leaf from How, still telling, folded spine, pinched with nails column, stripped it blade— then blade's tapered edge, again yield thinner straps— straps flexed away touch as curled them between fingers soften weave— unfolded episodes story while folding strips upon themselves—and again—and again—until held out small plaits— kia ora-ed giving— piqued forefinger thumb kept telling weave, thin strands left feathered off one end— carried plait scriptures even long after return— displayed bookshelf— boxed move other relics of past— you've pulled closet— turn hand— had forgotten flex grace—Previously published Tyler Chadwick, Litany With Wings (Salt Lake City: BCC Press, 2022).