The darkness that lay beside me was
replaced all at once by a man. Night
pesters me now asking Who is he
and What does he do?

Creatures, all we ever wanted
was to ignore ourselves and be completely
noticed—night made us so vulnerable, asleep
or in love or blind or walking up an alley.

We expect the earth to be lit up.
The night never lasts longer
than our memory of day.

The darkness is tired of providing,
of being occupied. So it comes in.
It makes the room dark, making the room
its room. Do not kiss in front of me,
like you always do, this is its new rule.

When the night has come in, something
else is holding the moon up and the sun away.

Although we can fill our hands
with earth, the dirt we know
is crumbled shadow, the servant
of whatever moves there
at the edge of the world—

Rebecca Dinerstein, “Night’s Disdain”, in Lofoten