← v18n1, Spring 2019Poetry · Volume 18, Number 1
The Night
The night was not the dream
it was his mouth
was his beautiful body stripped
of his useless gestures
was his pale face watching me from the shadows.
The night was his mouth
his strength and his passion
was his serious eyes
those stones of darkness
falling in my eyes
and it was his love in me
invading so slowly
so mysteriously.