You were always touching the void

never at home, with your boys, with your woman -

always away - touching the void.

 

You saw beyond the brown horse on the hill.

Beyond, beneath,

you saw the skeleton of rocks and mines

of men and minerals –

of Cornwall

the old heathen land

the body of the land

the backbone,

the carcass of it

you saw it all.

 

Was it unbearable?

Was that why you began to fly

up into nothingness

touching the void?

 

Splinters of balsa wood

paper and glue

all to hold you

up in the air

within that terrifying clarity.

 

But that was all you needed

just to touch the void.

What you wanted all along.

That one last clear cold

canvas!