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Every Day Ends in Bed.

 Every day ends in bed, a book, A cat, you making final taps at the
keyboard Kids fast asleep, cars below the window Throwing off the watery
noise of cars.
 We are ready now, you and me, After a day of making sandwiches and
global Conflict, to draw the curtain On the helter and the skelter.
Night Has come like a pipe full of opium.
We are made stupid by it but not unconscious Soon there will be visits
to the radiologist And other appointments that must be kept. The flesh
will be more ravaged than it was Twenty minutes ago, time will be more
But you will be next to me then With a novel about police procedures And
I will slip from the nervous day Into the warm shadows of your body.
The night will end like the rest of them In light, in birdsong, in the
ringing sound Of children dropped off early to the Montessori School
across the street. 


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Author:Unwin, Peter
Publication:Queen's Quarterly
Article Type:Poem
Date:Sep 22, 2016
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