And I in My Bed Again

by Hilda Morley

Hilda Morley

Last night
tossed in
my bed
the sound of the rain turned me
a leaf
in a dried gully
from side to
the sound of the rain took me
apart, opened to what is it?
breath caught in memory of
a deep sweetness
that sound
delicate, the wetness running
through my body
It might be nighttime
in a forest hut,
the rain constant
in little rivulets
at times uncertain—

safe in each other’s arms,
the rain sheltering
us a depth opening
bottomless to a terrible sweetness,
the small rain
shaking us in our bed
(the terror)
End of a season,
wind from the west.

To Hold in My Hand: Selected Poems (1955-1983)

Last updated August 29, 2017