Nocturne for Dark Things

I do my finest listening in the dark.
My best friend has always been ink
and she lets me talk so much at night.

One of the marvels of my life—
an alphabet. A whole green and mossy
world can be made and remade

from just twenty-six dark curlicues.
Here’s more dark: sometimes birds sleep
tucked under a giraffe’s dusky armpit

and sometimes fungi fatten only at night.
When I was a kid, I used to worry over
so many bugs and moths slamming

into our windshield. My sons have never
known that concern, which is another kind
of worry. But dark marvels still bloom

and snick the soil, swim the oceans and air—
and even on the moon: wide, flat plains
called seas, lakes, marshes, and bays

named Joy, named Sorrow, named Hope,
named Nectar, named Softness, named Serpent,
named Stickiness, named Tranquility, named

Clouds, named Sleep, and my favorite—named Love.

 

[Purchase Issue 31 here.]

 

Aimee Nezhukumatathil is the New York Times bestselling author of two essay collections: Bite by Bite and World of Wonders. She serves as a firefly guide for Mississippi State Parks, and her forthcoming book of poems is Night Owl.

From the beginning, The Common has brought you transportive writing and exciting new voices. We are committed to supporting writers and maintaining free, unrestricted access to our website, but we can’t do it without you. Become an integral part of our global community of readers and writers by donating today. No amount is too small. Thank you!

Nocturne for Dark Things

Related Posts

Supermarketing

LAUREN DELAPENHA
For example, the last time I asked God / to kill me I was among the lemons, remembering // the preacher saying, God is a God who is able / to hunger. I wonder, // aren’t we all here for that fast / communion of a stranger reaching // for the same hydroponic melon? 

A grayscale portrait of Geoffrey Brock

My Wife Dreams of My Father

GEOFFREY BROCK
At first he seemed bloated, / too pink, but when he laughed he was normal, / and so my wife laughed too