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Poem	A man and a woman lie on a white bed. It is morning. I think Soon they will waken. On the bedside table is a vase of lilies; sunlight pools in their throats. I watch him turn to her as though to speak her name but silently, deep in her mouth-- At the window ledge, once, twice, a bird calls. And then she stirs; her body fills with his breath. I open my eyes; you are watching me. Almost over this room the sun is gliding. Look at your face, you say, holding your own close to me to make a mirror. How calm you are. And the burning wheel passes gently over us.
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