I always leave the light on by my bed
To wake me from those lighter drifts of sleep
When I imagine I can turn and touch
Your face. When I can see I keep my head,
But in the darkness I can only keep
Myself awake. The worst is when a much
Used bulb burns out at night and I have rolled
To you, my hollow arms around me where
I’d dreamed I’d more than merely memory there,
More than sheets and quilts against the cold.
If you have any comments on this poem, Marcus Bales would be
pleased to hear from you.