How many ways can I describe darkness?
By Zarah Parker

Night, dark, black, absence of light.

What if it’s not just a shade,
but a blanket that can be
wrapped around your shoulders—
something warm?

A blanket that once on your shoulders
can bunch on your neck, can crawl
up the nape, the skull and become
a cover to your forehead.

Warmth becomes heat as this blanket
slides ever so slowly down the bridge
of your nose, to the cupid bow,
to chin, to chest, to knees, to feet.

It is heat without fire, no light,
no breath, no sight.




It’s slightly inspired by Ode to Melancholy by John Keats.