Unearth 9

Between these spasms

of light, in brittle fern, in dark

thickets: waiting

in your labyrinthine ear

for the thunder

to crack: for the Babel-roar,

for the silence. It will not

be what you wandered to

that is heard. But the step,

burrowing under

this parted sky, that keeps its distance

whole. And that widens in you

at the mouth

of cloven earth, where you watch

these fallen stars

struggle to crawl back to you,

bearing the gifts of hell.