Edges

Comes dreamy knowledge
when the veil of sleep floats
over a slack face.

We talk of the center,
finding one’s core

yet it’s at the edges,
the drift between sleep and waking,
the place a window opens between worlds—

the blending of art and plants
in a sculpture garden, liquid
sand where ocean pounds shore,

children hugging the fringes
of the playground,

words a politician doesn't quite say,
the feathered touch of a calloused hand
grazing over soft skin.