Tabernacle by P. R. Anderson

-from Night Transit

You laid me between you and you
held my breath. Day spread its sail
over us, our shroud shone. We lay
transfigured and yet world went on.

You held my breath. Was it always?
Certainly you held me and you
let me go. Sunlight wrote shadows
on canvas overhead. A beetle fell.

You drew your sheet back like morning.
That was where I came in.
World droned in daylight, world
without end. Air was burning

on your breath, as if with paraffin.
I lay in that canvas lung, that lit
air breathed me in. You drew
your sheet back as breath and world fell in.

I am remembered by you
as I was when. Beetle and shadow
prosper in sunlight. Write them then.
You hold my breath. Is it again?

Lie me between you and you
hold my breath. Draw your sheet
back and breathe me in,
hold me. And hold me when.


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