What Night Leaves Within
by Edward Garvey
Let me speak to you as if in a dream--
I wake with the sun, your hair on my face.
You are turned, as I turn from this stream
bent by thick glass though filtered through lace.
I make sure my skin touches your skin
before I retrieve what night leaves within.
I am in a field, burnt by a drought.
A crow stands before me, large as the moon.
It says, “All of this will be turned all about.”
I fear the crow’s beak. I dwell on its ruin.
When you stir from sleep, you move the covers.
Before we can speak, we speak as lovers.
What night leaves within his fading abyss,
the softest of dawns forgets with her kiss.
I wake with the sun, your hair on my face.
You are turned, as I turn from this stream
bent by thick glass though filtered through lace.
I make sure my skin touches your skin
before I retrieve what night leaves within.
I am in a field, burnt by a drought.
A crow stands before me, large as the moon.
It says, “All of this will be turned all about.”
I fear the crow’s beak. I dwell on its ruin.
When you stir from sleep, you move the covers.
Before we can speak, we speak as lovers.
What night leaves within his fading abyss,
the softest of dawns forgets with her kiss.
Edward Garvey began writing poetry, fiction, and plays in high school and started college as a creative writing major. After a brief 45-year escape into the mysteries of science, he returned to writing full-time, has had several poems accepted in a number of journals and contests, and has had a novel (Nathan Hughes) and a chapbook of poetry (Threes & Nine) published by small, independent presses.