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Posts Tagged ‘night’

One Blessing

 

 

 

open window—

in tiptoes the moon

to kiss me goodnight

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The night is enormous—

big enough to hold us both

in a way that make us

seem close.

This is why I speak to you

through the stars—

not because I think

that they can hear,

but because I pray

you can.

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Nocturne

 

 

 

Even after everything is said

there is so much left unsaid.

I have measured the nights in stars

and lost track. I struggle to say

something true. When I stop

trying, I notice the how night

comes in and fills my throat.

Though no one can hear it,

it says everything I wish to say.

 

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the dark is    less dark

and the shapes    of the world

reveal again their    singular shapes—

I know they don’t really    lose their lines in the dark,

but I like to imagine    all those newly

illumined    silhouettes

have spent the night    blurred, puddled

into one    immense darkness,

forgetting    for a while

that they have    any lines

worth    preserving.

It is enough    to make a woman

wish that    the light

would never    come

if that is    what it takes

to make us    all remember

how arbitrary    they are,

these boundaries    we like

to call    ourselves.

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So dark out there,

of course you’re scared

and want to hide

inside,

but notice how

when you turn off

the lights—I know

it sounds unwise—

that’s when you’ll find

that it’s not black

but gray, the night,

and you can see

quite well once you

let darkness open

slowly up your eyes.

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All night we turn

into each other’s arms

between dreams,

readjusting our bellies,

our backs, our toes

so they touch each other

lightly. Not the fumbling

of the newly met,

but the tenderness

of the long married,

we who know the

other’s body—all

the angles and softnesses,

all the positions where we

gently fit if only we bend an elbow

just so, if only we move

our leg just here—

how easy it is

to bend together

through darkness, how

beautiful to find you,

to be found.

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Still Practicing

I have wanted
to love you. Not just

to love you, but to love you
in the way you want to be loved.

This is not always the same thing.
A woman walks out into night

and it holds her. Sometimes
this comforts her. Sometimes

she is terrified. Sometimes
she loses her own edges

and becomes night.
There is no loss in this.

There is a moment
just before we say

I love you when the feeling
is truer than the syllables

that follow. That’s what
I am trying to do.

What night does.

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