Closeness for Comfort

there is a comfort we reach for
and an intmacy that calls us further
without the intimacy
we lie comfortable
in a net that keeps us

the rope is coarse and its grip abrasive
and so, eventually restless we churn over

but our net, our bed
better than the ground
still keeps us, still.

in that net
we know one happiness
it is the flat light of the afternoon
without the wisdom of morning
or the wile of night.

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