It was on a night like this when
I stopped trying to find you.
Your body disappeared, and
I was left in a sea
of white linen
and feather-down—
the area around the bed
and the main hallway
like a thousand
corridors. Antelope filled these halls,
their eyes turning into many dark
stratospheres, and in these
I could not find you.
The sheets became something like
a tourniquet around my body,
staying warm for your return:
You, the dark hair, the white gown,
the two black, teary eyes:
staring.