To Home and Hell

Sure. On the dark shore there’s light
And green grass no one’s walked on
Right at the lip of the cliff,

And dawn in the gowns of night
That drag the edge of the sky.
I’m not blind. And if I am,

It means that I’m a damned sight
More tuned to the dark’s sharp curves
Than you are. I know what’s there.

There are words—faint wings, pale jade,
Those blue and rose knives of day,
Blood on the edge of the blade—

Words that you and I, this team
Of us, this whole dream we are,
Turn to light on the waves’ lathes.