Epiphany

Old enough, they said
To wear shorts to school
Scant protection from
Arctic blasts, gnats, and grazes
Old enough though. Six.

Old enough too
To be weighed down:
Fears of the Foad gang
And dislike of Gypsy Tart
Or four-syllable words

That curious cigarette paper
On which lay black
Hymns, Psalms, and prayers
And ‘Epiphany’
I’d just learnt ph = eff

So, in secret
I sounded out my first
Four syllable
Uninterested in its meaning
Eee-piph-phanee
Eee-piph-anee

Later, years piling on
It became a date
The Magi have come
But somehow still
Shrouded in mystery

Later still, shaving
And loving,
Weighed down once more
I climbed inside the word
And the word inside me

In a moment
Extended for minutes
Standing in the dark
Face upended to the stars
The shroud fell away…