In the Night Speaking, by Richard Spilman

In the night speaking not

To each other

But to stars like words


But bright in their distance

We discover

The strange truth that what

Suffices us

Is never quite sufficient

(Though bodies open like night-blooming flowers)

And tomorrow

In the cowardly light come

To define

All our deficiencies

We put on sight,

Which is only dawn’s


That nothing comprehensible

Is more

Than it appears to be.

And yet we see

With dazzled clarity

Our bodies

Bound in strangeness

And as we

Watch each other rise

Like shadows

Swallowed by brilliancy,

We understand.

“In the Night Speaking” has been taken from the book IN THE NIGHT SPEAKING with permission from the author.

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