The Night
1
Just think of it,
and you surround it with
its opposite. Take here
and now, for instance. Do we see
a line where there is none? We draw
up sides, forgetting how
in cells, division
made things whole. To me
I’m complete,
but I’m partial to you.
2
So as we fall
into the night (which isn’t, after all
is said and done, the opposite
of day) I cannot see
our differences. Love mends
the language—we are each
first persons (though I know
I mustn’t speak for two.) I only mean
I feel myself again, inside,
and it is you.
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About the Author
Heather McHugh is author of The Father of the Predicaments, Hinge and Sign, and most recently, Upgraded to Serious. The Milliman Writer-in-Residence at the University of Washington, Seattle, she was awarded a MacArthur ‘Genius’ grant in September 2009.
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