We’re losing light by seconds and sounds

With it dimming are the stars, the sunlight, the fluorescent street lamps lining the streets

With each blast of darkness

          A part of me passes

Fading through a velvet curtain

I see my premonitions disturbed

From that pure white light

          Bright enough to guide a path

To a disgruntled gray

          Pouring through the loose strands of wise men

Finally resting in a black bed

          Through that dark ink swimming across the page

But imagine—who doesn’t simmer as those inked words lift off that page

          As they settle in your body through your inhale

A bright bulb glows as an interrogation begins

          Why must I fear what others crave?

          Why can’t I indulge myself with a bit of poetry, of words?

          Is it necessary for the wise to hold my hand?

                   leading me through a dance, gripping the hand laying on theirs

It stops —the dance disturbed by a new rhythmic drum

Castanets playing on the crevices of my palm  

The percussion swims through the caves of my fingers

          Intertwining and knotting itself at my knuckles

Instead of an anchor hooking me in and tugging me along

Instead of a ball-and-chain clutching me as I shuffle forward

          I feel a ribbon in my hands

As you stand shoulder to shoulder, and hip to hip

          Like a child in the store, glass eyed I pull you towards the shiny new toy

But rather than hear the click and retract of the leash—

          You follow.

Which when I see your eyes glisten as you find what you love

          I step behind and let you lead

Because even though I’m afraid of the dark

          And losing myself in its grasp

          The darkness doesn’t seem so dreadful

                   As long as I’m allowed to bring you.