The Edge of the World

by Holaday Mason

I offer you a small peeled orange and say
This is the earth.

The Irish moss, quiet

As a caterpillar, tempts
You to dig your feet into its wool
And loose its scent

Our naked limbs in the sun, we
Impress ourselves into each other,

Bear the unbearable light.

Here, before the dark, cold of the room
Where the man who has your face dies,

We remain
The sole witness a single moth,
(A strange and barely blue one) seals itself to the window

Where it writes– We can’t help who
We love.


Share via
Copy link
Powered by Social Snap