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Herbert Lomas, from A Casual Knack of Living: Collected Poems

Daylight comes and Night goes

Night. And the sea keeps whispering
the same thing in different words.

All the lights are out except
hers, even the street lights.

She gets up, changes the sheets,
vacuums the bed, fills the washing machine

and has a bath. Then she pours herself
a glass of hot milk and reads for an hour.

The rain rattles handfuls of drops
against the glass. The sound of her water

in the lavatory is like rain. She lies
in the dark, longing for the dark, though

dark's failing and her curtains glowing.
She draws them back, and the sun's

chroming the sea, and she wonders
who it is that's keeping her awake

and whispering the same thing
over and over in different words.

And then she draws back the waves.

(from Nightlights)