Sunday 30 October 2011

133

He left the light on
All night. It was absolute,
Until the curtains paled.

*

The child's hair was like
A dormant fire. His chest rose
In sleep, sparrowlike.

*

Did colour precede
Shape, or shape colour? We are,
As we are, our own.

*

The love he bore crept
Like a pale, new light. He got
Up, quiet. The child stirred.

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