Nightlight on the wall, two hand-spans above the baseboard,
glows amber under its shield, lacy-silhouette on the matte-paint-finish behind,
while the rest of the world tapers silently to blacker shadow

I stand back, illuminated, afar, without sound, to observe,
awaiting the event, I realize that I am the tableau before me

I hold her close to ground existence;
she is the figure

If ever displaced in time or space,
she and I will pretend the other is simply beyond the door, nothing more

But for now, beneath the nightlight, I place our blanket down, huddle under,
warm save the small breeze through the eyelet we leave,
for the coming and the going of air and light and spirit

Chagall 2019

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