Leuchtturm 4

We found the lightless floor at 2AM,
Our old legs
In that house in Michigan,

Near that lake:
    Shallow; trudged for days
    Until the green-gray drop-off.

We opened two sets of sliding doors

And winter poured in -
Christmas,
Blinding and
Same as the year my
Great-Grandfather died:

My young body caught pneumonia;
Nearly his death.

The stars there are slowly melting spring-steel:
A great, feral grace
Crawling
Over the rush of the world
Passing beneath it,

And all the earth's deer
Hanged from all the earth's branches -

    The night's great horizon
    Rushing, breathless -
    The world of it receding
    Over unseen edges
    And taking us, and the children

    When we lean too far
    Through open doors
    Into the dark.

The snow
Against our necks
Saws our
Breath;

The
Safety we have promised
I could never give.

And so it goes molten.
Perfect. Beautiful.