Noir
Risk
Eve's Defense
Darkness isn’t a color; you can’t touch it or squeeze
it from a tube, it doesn’t have any mass or volume,
although it’s often full of bodies,
they don’t even know what they’re suffering from.
In the darkness, they study the art
of getting caught, the faculty of disappearance,
the loss of resistance.
Sometimes the only thing they want is to hurt
somebody else, but they can’t take their eyes
off the things they’re unable to see.
They don’t even remember the price
is what you have to pay,
and it only gets darker later on,
when the mountains of shadow press
down on the pavement, and crows pick at the lawn,
indistinguishable from the darkness,
they don’t realize life is less expensive than a meal
in the darkness, and the light is artificial,
coughed up like a fur ball.
They watch the time run out a little
at a time, as in a book that’s over before it ends,
carrying their prison around
with them until they’re ready
to go inside. Their friends aren’t always friendly,
and there’s a woman who shines like a bug light
in the darkness—people do terrible
things just to be near her. You can feel the heat
seeping out of her body—her temperature isn’t normal.
Training in survival is spotty,
and there are gardeners everywhere,
but nothing is growing. Plenty
of muscle but not enough care.
I knew I had some exposure,
and there was a chance I would end
up with nothing, and couldn’t help relying on the instinct for survival,
the instinct to take refuge somewhere,
to establish a defensive position. I don’t mind
taking precautions—I’m not opposed
to the sort of hedging arrangements that provide
a benefit when something goes wrong, even if it’s not supposed
to, but I’m not really diversified;
people say you should be in order to deal
with adverse events or protect yourself when you experience
a reversal, but I’m trying to exercise ordinary care,
because then you’re not responsible,
at least in the legal sense,
although it’s usually for injury to others.
Of course, people depend on avoidance—
they live their lives at the expense of those
they might have. They’re worried about the price,
and the limited resources, they thought
the free market would take care of it;
sometimes it seems as if is the indefiniteness, the absence
of clarity that makes it bearable,
and I’m not disagreeing with them, not at all—
when something unexpected happens,
I feel a sudden shock of recognition.
In answer to the complaint: admits venue,
competency, denies trespass,
avers lawful possession of premises,
admits appetite, denies educational value,
avers ripeness, ornamental appearance,
proximity, the trappings of entrapment, admits presence
of serpent, denies uprightness, denies influence,
admits knowledge of the body, the existence
of sexual desire, denies
it’s a surprise.
Peter Leight has previously published poems in Paris Review, Partisan Review, AGNI, and other magazines.
