A place called H.E.R.E

You, if you were sensible,
when i tell you the stars flash signals, each one dreadful,
you would not turn and answer me
'The night is wonderful.'

-D.H LAWRENCE, 'Under The Oak'

***

Darkness spills into this enclosed leeway

through the millions of pores perforated on

the sheath of this space.

Like yeast,

each ray of darkness ferments sorrow and heartbreak

into hatred and abhorrence.

Bubbles of grudge evaporate and condense,

pooling on the deck of this expanse,

forming a blackened, filthy reservoir.

I'm halfway drowning,

but no one hears my beseeching cries.

H.E.R.E eats up my soul, fragment by fragment;

but you never understand.