Land’s End by Malachi Black

Land’s End

 

When did you wake? The sheets, still

softened by your sleep, are tousled

 

now, and almost cold. I turned

and, where your warmth was, all

 

was winter’s paw when I returned.

Come back, and lay your shiver down

 

beside me in this open bed; there

is no safety in the world outside

 

this quilt, this pillow, this bare thread.

Lie here, and let me braid your hair

 

until my hands are veined and old—

and weathered as the fisherman’s,

 

whose fingers cast an ancient net

into a brightness they can’t hold.