CW: none.

They say a mountain vista looks loveliest in the golden hour, and
lunar landscapes most fully reveal themselves in quarter moons;
light and dark embrace to lift each other.
I offer you a thing that equals this,
hints of darkness to accent your light,
unclasp your boundless nature.
The darkness I offer fills your hollow parts like
water flooding parched earth,
allowing your light to glint and sparkle.

I offer a soul with depth and nuance,
not some tawdry trinket that might belong to anyone.
Certainly, you will have a fine house and cars.
There will be plenty of things, of course:
Vacations and dinners and social events,
but what I really offer is contentment and comfort.

I ask so little in return:
You don’t have to kill anyone.
You don’t have to enslave anyone.
You don’t have to injure or bully anyone.
You don’t have to withhold their food
You don’t have to destroy their home.
You don’t have to take away their children.

I only ask that when those moments unfold,
you avert your eyes and bite your tongue.
The blood you draw will bind our pact.
So subtle, the taste of copper on the palate
you’ll hardly notice me seeping down
to engorge you, to bloat you,
to enlarge your life. There is no evil, only the sweet balm of relief,
choices made to relieve and comfort body and soul.

I promise it will get easier to turn the other way.

Author’s note:

I like the image of a demon rewarding a failure to act—speaking soothingly and turning our eyes from atrocity. It feels authentic to our place in history. I wanted the poem to ask the question: When we refuse to look into the dark, aren’t we complicit in what happens there?