Night

At night,
the universe, so large by day,
so spread out and confident,
breathes silence and bundles itself,
curls in on itself,
becomes small,
hiding itself like a child beneath a blanket,
peeking out into the darkness of night.
A blanket, soft and heavy,
spreads over us all;
you are over there,
head resting against a pillow,
drowsing,
I am over here,
tucked coolly beneath cool sheets.
A blanket, soft and heavy,
wide and long,
stretching from one state to another,
piling atop cities and suburbs,
a worn blanket
scattered with bright holes
where small fingers have pulled at yarn,
where small fingers have rubbed the fabric for comfort.
Night, covering the universe so that it curls upon itself,
obscuring all distances,
making infinity as small and delicate as an infant;
making the long trip from here to there
the distance of a narrow bed.
We are where we are,
tucked coolly beneath cool sheets,
heads resting side by side against a pillow,
drowsing.