He drew aside the blankets
massaging life
into the small of her back,
the warm hollow of her neck
now keeper of his kiss.

At once he turned away,
weight and warmth
trumped by the need for light.
Paralyzed she waited for the click
of the jasmine lamp.

In the dark a bird sang
outside the window,
deluded that the thin stream of light
beneath the curtain
meant that morning had come.

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