Beside you,
lying down at dark,
my waking fits your sleep.
Your turning
flares the slow-banked fire
between our mingled feet,
and there,
curved close and warm
against the nape of love,
held there,
who holds your dreaming
shape, I matched my breathing
to your breath;
and sightless, keep my hand
on your heart's breast, keep
nightwatch
on your sleep to prove
there is no dark, nor death.
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