Vivid division of night and day's erased. If only light were a little less wanted, The pang that brings us to our knees, Praying and palavering among stone pews.... We murmur rumors of ill-lit hope In illegible littleness, Have easy breathing in a blunted cove, Voluptuous sighs swiftly wrapped In midnight velvets And cool contentment at the core. Our disdainful backs Turned to the emergent sun In reticulated whispers Vibrant and magnificent.