Feeds:
Posts
Comments

Posts Tagged ‘edge’

One Beautiful Madness

 

 

 

just past the cliff edge

where land yields to infinite air—

spreading our picnic blanket there

Read Full Post »

The edge is not so far out as I think.
See—it is shallow. The red and green fish
with thick purple lips tug on the coral reef.

I float between their feast and the terrible air,
battered by waves, surprisingly still, then kick,
feather my arms, flutter kick, and oh! The bottom

of the sea drops from so close that I think I will scrape
my knees to so deep I cannot see through the blue
to the bottom. I lift my head and note

that the shore is not so far away, but my god,
I think, I’m in deep. At the edge: Pink heads
of coral. A long, white fish with a long white nose. Black

spotted fish poking through the holes. And all that
bottomless blue. My body must look
like a floating exclamation point, but my mind is all

question mark. Am I safe? Is this real? How deep does it go?
What else lives here? What more can I see? Everything seems
worth noticing. I swim the edge as long as I dare.

Tell myself I must go in, there are children waiting there.
But part of me says, You’re are scared. I’m just learning
to wave, learning to deep, learning to tide,

learning to breathe at the edge where the tug
goes in all directions, even these places
where the light will never reach.

Read Full Post »

When you stand on the ledge
six stories above the street,

you are perhaps lost, but
there is not a lot a map can tell you.

There is back in the window,
and there is down.

What is it that keeps you
from jumping.

You wouldn’t even need to jump.
Just trip. Lean. Step. Or if you sneeze,

it could be considered an accident.
Somehow easier that way to imagine it,

but how to explain the fact that you
climbed through the pane

out onto the railingless edge.
Someone would have to clean up

the splatter. That thought
is enough to hold you here,

back against the brick.
It’s not that you want to die.

Below, the cars crisscross and merge.
But how to go on living.

Beneath you the ravens weave.

Read Full Post »

%d bloggers like this: