In their determined obsolescence. 

Fireflies in heavy dusk

Repeat their phosphorescence.

The delicate husk

of my rib cage

holds a murmur of night birds

taking a deep breath.

I wake up with your elbow on my hair, and notice you staring out at the nothingness 

of the new moon.

These moments 

grounded in matter

present themselves

fiercely giving

gentle clues.

Some day we all wake up

But for now we are sometimes 

rising briefly in the night 

and falling back to sleep.