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With my eyes closed
Tonight the man you are sleeping beside no longer loves you.
He left you, if only moments ago, to pick apples off another tree.
He is busy now hitting sixes or sliding in for the try
or posing like a prize fighter or frightened on a silver escalator
that takes him to the top of his dreams.
But you do not feature there in the clouds of his sleep
you do not number among the angels that he counts.
You do not exist in his silent midnight movie.
He may wake, for a moment, pull your body closer
but it will be only a brief rekindling, a drowsy encounter.
Remember this in the small of the morning
before the day has got a ready grip
and the man you slept beside last night lies quietly indisposed
remember how I loved you. With my eyes closed.
.
.
© Jan Noble 2010
ISBN 978-1-907513-24-4
Nº 11 of 12
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