"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


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