We Almost Caught the Turning

We had the time
to motion a part of the edge
to stop its wriggling.

Obeying, it ceased,
and the beginning was that edge.

We took a quasar’s pulse
and wondered if it would live.
There was the question of life at all,
until we discovered ourselves.

Beside a nightstand,
the unabridged prayerbook
opened itself to an astronomical page
when the six numbers parted
a red season.

We almost caught the turning.

Then the pulse quickened, faded,
and the edge reappeared, unopened again.

Published in Great River Review (1978)