”O, come in equivocator!”
Macbeth, Act II, Sc 3

The eye does not see what I see.
The eye is closed; the mind looks
On those images it has wrought.

The eye is closed,
But I will close it again
And make a second blindness,
A second night within the first.

He who went before me is dead,
for nothing much; my inheritance
is a traitor’s inheritance, my king
a dead king. Be all, and end all—
If it could be done, then do it

This double darkness is mine
and it is not mine, it is the darkness
of words without the world—
The words that come in the night
marking their shadows on the wall.
Darkness is a mirror where
I do not see myself.

A knock on the door—
the rest will follow.

Amelia Urry, “Dark”, in Yale Poetry Review, spring 2012