On the other side of the hill
on the other side of the stars
there is a beach as
smooth as a windowpane.
Some of it is colored
red and yellow and green,
swirled bright or dripped
thick as from a brush.
Some of it is colorless.
Here, you can see
down beneath the glass –
the crust, the mantle, the core.
We stand at the edge and look in,
our bodies too dense to touch it.
Flies land deftly on its surface,
their thin legs vibrating gently.
The waves that lap at the beach
make tiny cuts that catch the fish
and turn them into scaled ribbons
before they’re pulled back out.
No one knows how far the glass goes, under the water.
Divers have seen bright patches of lava five kilometers out.
After that, everything goes dark
even the sea.