From What the Welsh
and Chinese Have In Common
Against Morning
All night the sun has waited
to bring this lace of light;
color comes to the room
without grace and too soon
we see too well to dream;
mystery was our aim--
it left no room for sleep;
now in the tangle of sheets,
we are still and touching;
we trust so much in things
we must lose in daylight;
you move and bright bands
bend on your back; the blinds
keep in what days lack.
Paul_Jones@unc.edu
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