This Night Eternal

by Rajika Rex Bajgain

No, I cannot stay the night,

not for eyelashes of blonde spruce needles

nor the pale-faced son of Raphael’s Madonna

nor the moonlit forehead furrowed ever so slightly

(what is he thinking of?);

when it is over

you will want it again,

it is our parting that makes

our togetherness sweet.

You ask me now to stay the night

your gentle eyes kindling up at me,

to bed the stars inside our pillowcase

to wed fantasy to reality

to entwine your hand in my olive twig fingers

and to unify us in sleep.

Ah, but that’s much too

dangerous, dear:

I won’t need to see 

the next sunrise

if I’ve already seen

what an angel looks like

when he dreams.

O my eyelashes of blonde spruce needles

my sleeping son of Raphael’s Madonna

If I stay this night,

there will not be another.