The Shadow Is Shut

The news is an insufficient portal,
Even the most thorough, objective news.
Science is a bit better, but slower.
People—friends and family—even worse.

Serious journals, math, literature,
Beveled windows and stained glass, all of them.
Poetry is not only not the news
That stays the news—it was never the news.

Outside your windows, the world is a wall.
The night is a wall studded with weird clues
That math and science, accidentally,
Are on to something that keeps to itself,

Lurking, tempting those lovers of numbers
To mutter about darkness at the door.