Widower
Knowing there are
many words for night;
mightwatch,nightshade,nightfall
but none for the space
of a halved bed,
an envelope starched,
flat with white,
unslept in
and hands devoid of
a trace of perfume or rest warmth,
a gentle curve.
Let him cherish the lost presence
of a drowned moon
of darkness long
of standing time.
Copyright © Leslie Philibert | Year Posted 2015
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