Darling night, again I address your distance,
cricket racket, owl on the prowl, the letter
Z in bubbles, blankets and sheets, your pillow
making me heavy,
oh, the wait for you to undo your buttons,
let your swiftness go through the open window,
moonward while the weight of you stays, unfolds, and
blooms with an orchid’s
sweet-sick scent; but when you descend on me, good-
night, the distant fire arrives and takes me
down with you, much deeper than sense, to private
radiant oceans.
~ Mary Meriam: Eagle Rock, Missouri | The Brooklyner
