At the Edge of the City

At the edge of the city

there are grasslands

where the sun lingers longest

at the end of the day.

I'd like to live there;

not in the blue-violet

shadows of the valley, but

at the edge of evening,

when golden strokes of

rich honey-light

lay like a blessing

over the sloping land.

Rainwater

Never have I been more

afraid of Reality

calling my name

sniffing out my scent

in the dark

latching onto my wrist

with cold strong fingers

that send a chill

seeping into

my trembling bones

like rainwater.