Hole • Philip Wolff

I’m searching the sky
(as I do)
for hints of dull rain
or that beautiful blue
or scents of her pie --
when I step into what must be a deep
in the earth at my feet.
And I fall for so long --
light fading above,
dark thick at my toes --
and touch down
in a place neither blue,
nor rain,
nor, for that matter, ground.