In the thin place between the word and the thing,

at the wall's inside, old wires intertwine

and cockroaches are the hieroglyphs of home.
I take your hand in these last nights and wait

beside the Styx on a green bank that runs to the wood,

in the thin place between the word and the thing.
And we stand all night gazing at the hard water

and cannot see the other side. Still in the ward

the neon obscures the hieroglyphs of home.
We've come this far but are stubborn at the pier

beside the boat's bob and the oars unused

in the thin place between the word and the thing.
And our breaths intertwine on the world's edge

– I've stood inside the Newgrange tomb – like

three coils that are the hieroglyphs of home.
A speck on the near horizon! Charon comes

but not tonight. And my fingers tell you I can't go

past the thin place between the word and the thing,

nor write the way for you, in the hieroglyphs of home.