the edge

I don’t know
if flames are rising anew
or if the dark furnace
has only been uprooted
to an unfamiliar corner of my desire.

I don’t know
if my eyes are open
or if the musculature of my face
only casts new shadows
with age.

I don’t know
if I am becoming the raw edge between the river and the rocks
or if I remain stuck in the drama of one or the other
flowing too little
or too much.

circa 2017