I sit unlit in a corridor crammed with dark directions,
in a building’s belly, in the womb of the night.
I sit down on the floor, round a corner,
out of the way,
and let the quiet air wrap me,
diffuse into my pores, hiding me:
I am hid from the day’s dull demigods
The tax man and the facts man
and the soft focus ad woman.
I am hid. They are in their places
and they don’t know the light within the dark.
They are blind. At last I am lost.