VII – A Dark Interlude: in which Darkness herself comes across Morien’s dreaming body and is like woah. The dark waxes wan, the dark waxes red. Light is emitted from things that are dead:

by Jay Bernard

Every eye in the forest
has slipped into the gutter
of the face. The world is
changing hands: waking
and falling swap rings.

Morien’s body speaks to
the thin high black he
sleeps in. For many years
this black has sat and
spoken with badger
stripes, caves, prehistoric
cockatoos, but never a Morien.

Black hands, rhino grey
black arms and chest
downed with black hairs
sprung tight into coils.
His palms, the soles
of his feet are black and
so is the inside of his mouth,
all besides his eyes and teeth.

Morning darkness talks
with this body as whales
sing in the deep. Morien’s
tone is like a voice black
thought she heard carried
on the silent lightless
current in her head.

She can’t get enough.             Bounces the sounds
         of the world before                  the sun, and, wow,
                  he can actually                          bounce it back.