Sky black, ground white.
The line between them sharp and flat.
It's a desert of sorts and the people walk in clans
carrying houses on their backs.
The day is just as black as night.
Ground so white it hurts their eyes.
The people walk toward the sky and don't get any closer.
A child will ask, why are we going?
and his hunched over mother will drop her bags
and take the tiny knife from his calloused hands
and say, someone lives in the dark and can't be seen,
but he tells us that someday if we keep walking,
we'll go to someplace where colors change
after a little while.
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