This dark of night was never
ending real to touch as
endless skin is smooth
and soothing to the fingers
tactile walk, the seeking
of beginnings in the talk of
dusk assumed by wombs
of light and eyes deprived
a source of sight. The gentle
night is gelatin and warms
the skin and earthy crust
of crying time. And in
the dawn awakenings
new life begins.
© 6 March, 2007 I.D. Carswell
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