Page 34 - Contrast1998
P. 34
Before Dawn
the hour before dawn is the coldest of the day -
as if the earth finally despairs of the sun's return and
sends, in a final sigh, her remaining breath of warmth,
as goodbye to her fiery lover -
I refuse to give back my heat and lie, curled up:
a selfish ball, realigning my mind from sleep into
wakefulness, even though it is too early, still
and the clock proclaims its official morning hours.
I wonder how you lies,
keeping to one side decorously or spreadeag1edwjththe
delicious abandon of a sleeper?
do you dream of me now,
and have you ever?
in my foetal protectedness I send you my spirit
and softly kiss your brow
in a last acknowledgement of parting.
I know you won't remember.
Veronica Susan Zito
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