The Keeper waits at the edge of the world,
as he knots his nets of starlight and air.
He watches and works and waits for the girl.
The one who charts the edge of this world.
Skating the edge, sharp bladed, she swirls.
He hears in her movement the breath of despair.
She makes her last turn and launches, midair
into madness
her sanity unfurls
into madness
her lunatic plunge.
Universe explodes pierced by radiant nets.
His scarred hands unfurl in their shattering pain.
The Keeper waits at the edge of the world.
Waiting, tear stained, for the girl.
Through space
starlight rushes.
She plummets
free-falls.
Will star nets contain her?
Suspended, she cries.
How will I chart the edge of this world
now that I've fallen off?
