Ultra Black

at a loss— 

for words, 

for want.

they leave me reaching: 

touch, 

pressure,

 a spark, 

anything.

too late.

i tumble

 into torpor, 

a forest of vertical obsidian, 

nanotubes drinking the light.

here, the shadow 

has no edge. 

here, the dark 

swallows

me

whole

October 2026 Poetry Project

Day 5 of 31