Outside under
this field of stars
in a frost that slows
the blood
we are the dark.
We hold in a creel
of air
what’s human
and stretch out
our fingertips
to the whorl of galaxies
to feel for what’s not there.
Outside under
this field of stars
in a frost that slows
the blood
we are the dark.
We hold in a creel
of air
what’s human
and stretch out
our fingertips
to the whorl of galaxies
to feel for what’s not there.
The Dark Farms 