SOMETIMES I WISH I COULD BE THE DARKNESS
- 8 hours ago
- 1 min read
By Georgia Hilton
that enfolds you. The softest envelope, night’s blanket.
A velvet coverlet brushing your earlobe, skimming
the surface of a cheekbone. You breathe into me
and I absorb it. There is no me, but you suffuse it.
It’s not darkness after all, but waning light that casts
the shadows. I am a shelter from it, your deepest
hollow. The ink of an underground cavern. What
fantastical creatures swarm the imagination here,
living without sunlight or oxygen. But they are real.
Real! As a horse or a fox or a golden eagle. They’re
just subterranean, so hidden you never encounter
them but you know they are there. These are the
gifts of my buried places, this is the nightmare.
On the shadow side of the earth, night
caresses us. Still, there are stars, the moon,
bioluminescence. Not to say anything
of streetlamps, helicopter search lights,
neon shop signs. To experience true darkness
you must go underground. Let’s sleep under
stalactites, make friends with Hades. I’ll turn
my face towards you so you can feel its contours
you make the shape of me with your hands,
as if forming me yourself, from memory.