EDGE OF THE WORLD

He’s cracking

heavy violet moisture of warm ice

softly condensed on the mirror

soundless splinters of borderline madness

collapse into ragged chunks of grief

that tumble past his worn rusted iron boots

and silently leap off the edge of the world

onto the reclining back of elvis

in the black and silver landscape below

(to appear in Breadcrumbs Scabs, 2009)