Wherever the edge was 
a decade ago, a year ago?
It’s just ahead, almost
underfoot now. 

I was born for the edge
of the edge, to hang my toes
over the great fall
to the bottom, and look down.

My friends say it’s dangerous
to be here. They are afraid
I’m still who I was a decade ago,
a year ago. No fear that I’ll jump;

they just know how much I love
the edge of the edge. Love the stage
it provides. To tumble in the last act
would be just my way, they think,

but I’m not the being
they think I am, not even the one I was
a year ago, a decade ago. I know 
if I fall into that, I’ll just float

and no one, not even my friends,
is ready to see me hovering like
the peregrine falcons on Stone Mountain
updrafts, not plunging to earth.

I know who I am now. I don’t
stumble over the edges where I find myself.
I sit there in mid air high above disasters
and catastrophe. Maybe someday. Not today,

not a decade, not a year hence.
I’m not done with the earth yet.
I’m not ready yet to fall, to fail. 
I’m too light to know how close death is. 

For the love of the wall of darkness
in the mouth of the bedroom
that is the door to the bedroom

that has been created by the light in the kitchen
that will soon be turned off leaving only
one small nightlight left on to make it easier

not to trip over the black cat if there is
(as there always is)
a need to walk from bedroom to bathroom

in the few small hours between
my late bedtime and early rising
that have become my old-age norm

I offer praise for what lies 
beyond that wall of darkness 
in the mouth of the bedroom

as I stagger with my old knees
and dead-nerve feet from bathroom
back into the bedroom

so warm and easeful
after fitting my CPAP mask 
and settling in for the few hours between

falling asleep now and then rising
into the insatiable orders 
of dawn and food and work

This is for love of the darkness
that promises a little forgetfulness 
if only I will come in and stay 

and now I realize that here is the black cat
sleeping on the bed itself 
so I needn’t have worried

I could have done all this
in darkness had I wished
without nightlight at all

It’s not far from here to there
An easy walk easily completed
if I only had had faith in my own steps

I tell myself next time to listen
for the purring in here
before I step out into dim and useless light