Now Alone is a Bed Partner

(I discovered this poem in Our Bodies, Ourselves, and loved it instantly.)

Now Alone is a bed partner, is a
precious gem,
is a bandit she wants, is a woman with
silver hair,
is better than a man.

Alone was a gift she didn't recognize
when it first
arrived. She locked it in the bedroom
and stayed
downstairs. She wouldn't let it come
to meals.

She knew the sweet faces of her friends,
she didn't
trust Alone who slept in her mirror, in
her voice,
in the hollow where her hands covered
her eyes.

Alone was patient with her when she took its
hand, it gave her
songs and poems, drawings and slow
breath, a peace
larger than sunset. Everyone felt it.
The children

drew around her as if she were the
hearth.
Alone moved in as no one else could,
unpossessive,
leaving space for women and men to
interact with her. Now

Alone is there in the morning and
welcomes her home
and wants nothing from her and gives all
of itself
to her and never turns her away.