Darkness opens like a gate
again. My fingers on your latch
are tender when they lift the tongue,
slip a catch, then hesitate
across the entrance where you wait.
Your smile’s a darkness joined to dark:
it widens as I close this gap –
almost noiseless. It’s getting late:
nocturnal landscape – a country
I didn’t choose – and I’m alone with you.
I kiss the soil. Its sweet reek
of straw’s like longing, a snare of honey
to bite and bring me home to you:
a costly heimat. A world, asleep.