The Midnight Bedroom

Couple weeks ago, Elena ordered a book of poetry by Louise Gluck. It arrived day before yesterday. Night had fallen and we sat in bed, passed the book back and forth, took turns opening it anywhere and reading aloud to one another. How have I not known about this poet for so long? Anyway, Louise Gluck had her effect on me that night. We turned out the lights and fell into our separate sleeps. Around 2am, I woke up, looked into the dark of our bedroom, and felt that deep unnameable thing one can feel after ten years of living with and loving someone. I wrote my own poem, the terrain of language suddenly beckoning again and new.

“In this midnight bedroom
the dogs are asleep
and you are asleep
and I am awake, feeling
my heart nestled, fitted against
the rocks of your life
hard sometimes, and rough

but the waters of anything
can crash and crush against
can roil and rage and surge
but not breach the bulwark
of your loving…
tender as any,
mighty as any mother’s
quiet watchfulness.

ten years of nights and noons
and only the first inkling
of dawn to show
the shape of this shelter,
and all my darknesses gone
in the light of you,
of us.”