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SHADOWLIGHT<br />
We slipped beneath the transparent coverlet <strong>of</strong> wool, she and I. Even our heads<br />
were hidden, and the lamp lit up the cloth above us.<br />
And thus I saw her dear body in a mysterious glow. We were much closer to each<br />
other, freer, more naked and more intimate. "In the selfsame shift," she said to<br />
me.<br />
We left our hair done up so that we'd be more bare, and in the close air <strong>of</strong> the bed<br />
two female odors rose, as from two natural censers.<br />
Nothing in the world, not even the lamp, saw us that night. And which <strong>of</strong> us was<br />
loved and which the lover, she and I alone can ever tell. But the men shall never<br />
know a thing about it.<br />
THE SLEEPER<br />
She sleeps in her undone hair, her hands entwined behind her neck. But does she<br />
dream? Her lips are parted and her breath is gentle.<br />
With a little dab <strong>of</strong> down I dry, without awakening her, the perspiration from her<br />
arms, the fever from her cheeks. Her closed eyelids are two purple flowers.<br />
I shall arise quietly; I'll go draw water, milk the cow, and beg some fire from our<br />
neighbors. I want to be coiffed and dressed completely when she opens her eyes.<br />
Sleep, remain awhile between her lovely curving lashes, and spin out the happy<br />
night with a dream <strong>of</strong> happy omen.<br />
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