Curtains

[Semicircle]

She’s already awake when 
the morning sun cleaves the curtains.
She turns to the one beside her,
a single beam across his face.

The morning sun cleaves the curtains.
The days somehow stretch fore and aft.        Like a rowboat, nice metaphor for passing time.
A single beam across his face. 
Nothing light can show anew.                       Show anew?

The days somehow stretch fore and aft
Rehearsal for an empty house. 
Her thoughts a hemisphere away.                    This line hits.
Another lies in another bed.                             "Another bed occupied"

Rehearsal for an empty house. 
The motions now are all for show. 
And shows, of course, shows must go on.       This repetition at the end is hammy. Don't need it. 
On until the curtains close.

Line repetition is this poem's best quality, so an effort to slice anything that stumbles a little or makes you think twice really heightens its readability.

There's a lot to like in this piece, I like it more every time I read it.