Cusp Poem by Diane Lee Moomey

So now— when silence reigns upstairs,
demanding voices stilled in sleep
and dreams, when in this bare

and empty midnight every cup,
for once, is washed and rinsed, each mote
of dust swept up, the missing buttons

found and sewn and every weed
dispatched— the edge between tomorrow
and today rolls smoothbeneath

my fingers. Only now can I beleive
in magma melting stone, in caves
of water miles below my feet.

And yes, I do believe I hear
the sigh of passing space, my planet
cycling, cycling at dizzy speed
around the sun.