Consider the moths throwing themselves into lampposts,
knocking the threshold of light: consider the fireflies’
green glow, clear as human need: consider the shining
poppies: consider the ghosts of his hands on the mirror:
as each light goes out, consider he, too, will sleep alone:
consider how these arms are empty in bed and know
when darkness presses a poppy’s soft, pink folds,
it’s not absence, for once, just another coupling.