The sea’s utter lust eats at the shores of my skin.
Here at last I can be lonely.
The sky has spilled all its secrets
And the crabs have gathered them to their caves.
The horizon drags my own secrets out with the tide,
Out beyond the islands
To where the world tapers.
Here I believe the world has an end,
That if I swim out far enough
I’ll plunge with all the fish across the brink
And fall through thickets of stars.
Even the universe, they say, has walls.
Out beyond the twilight’s keeping a door lies open.
I’d like to stand there with my back to all the light,
Looking out,
Then take a step.
Here at last I can be lonely.
The sky has spilled all its secrets
And the crabs have gathered them to their caves.
The horizon drags my own secrets out with the tide,
Out beyond the islands
To where the world tapers.
Here I believe the world has an end,
That if I swim out far enough
I’ll plunge with all the fish across the brink
And fall through thickets of stars.
Even the universe, they say, has walls.
Out beyond the twilight’s keeping a door lies open.
I’d like to stand there with my back to all the light,
Looking out,
Then take a step.
- The Book of Flying, Keith Miller
4 comments:
I might just have to read this...
I found it lovely at the time. The poem was from the main character--a man who takes care of a library that no one visits and who pines after a woman with wings that he saw once when he was young. :-)
I think I started this book! In fact, I know I have... Hmm, wonder why I never finished
Prolly 'cause it was slooow going. I read it when I was a bit less picky about what stories I consumed.
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