Look where the hills meet the sky.
That jagged line between this world,
sustained by common sense,
and all our insubstantial longings
is like a gash
in which the last light festers.
The night will heal it, of course,
leaving only a dark scar
you have to look long and hard to see:
solid ground to stand on
and thin air, almost indistinguishable—
like two shades of black.