Look where the hills meet the sky.
That jagged line between this world,
sustained by common sense,
and all our insubstantial longings
is like a gash
in which the last light festers.

The night will heal it, of course,
leaving only a dark scar
you have to look long and hard to see:
solid ground to stand on
and thin air, almost indistinguishable—
like two shades of black.

About the poet: Don Thompson was born and raised in Bakersfield, California, and has lived in the southern San Joaquin Valley for most of his life. Now retired from teaching in the prison system, he lives with his wife, Chris, on her family's cotton farm in the house that has been home to four generations. Thompson has been publishing poetry since the early sixties, including a half dozen books and chapbooks. Most recently, Local Color, a book-length narrative poem has been released by Kelsay Books along with Keeping an Eye on the Stones, prose poems from Katywompus Press; another selection of prose poems, Nietzsche Wept, is forthcoming from Finishing Line.