"the dark knows this"

The lapfuls of minutes til eyes shut,

the way the throat feels blocked and gutted at the same time.

 

There is an absence fingers know, a leaving.

Fingers try to grip.

 

Where it’s wooded

Where it’s windowless

Where the quilt has weight

Where a body lies

Where a body leaves

 

Where a lake is still

until

water is broken (punctured) by an oar.

 

Where knowing means not

Where letting go means falling

 

A deep well

A dark hole

 

Skin that doesn’t know fingers anymore.

 

I can’t find you.

I don’t want to. 

 

prompted by the line “the dark knows this” Linda Hogan // Dark & Sweet