you have it all to yourself because
no one else pays attention at this hour —
the lake

is an invisible black edge of the earth
that a glowing gold claw pierces to draw
off from the dark rest of the sky —

up along the line its
crescent moon scythes
its circle around    the earth   silver as a fish

on this spinning line
you can reel in           to some sense for yourself

or let its rip
open in yourself the darkness
that swims your blood wild its whirling uncaught.

Copyright © 2026 by Ed Roberson. Used with the permission of the poet.