Poetry | The Line by Fiona Sampson


White trunks divide the dark
beside the line
and in the dusk trees pause

since if they do not move they cannot
see themselves
or know this moment has to end

that stretches out beside the line
as held breath
prolongs itself by holding still

because we do not want the day
to end because
to stay like this brings the dusk close

to us as we are close touching
not touching
together in the long dark.