Dave Bonta's "Ramification" is only a few lines long, but it packs a surprising amount into them. The speaker describes night as something that takes in "all the branches of my body." At first this sounds like a tree at dusk, its limbs dissolving into darkness. But the branches are the speaker's own: perhaps veins, nerves, or the lines of the lungs, all spreading outward like twigs. Night seems to reach into them and fill them.
The last two lines shift the picture. These branches are "as small and intricate / as any clock," so the body becomes a delicate mechanism, quietly ticking. The speaker seems to listen to themselves in the dark, newly aware of their own pulse and inner workings.
The mood is hushed, close, and a little wondering. There's some vulnerability in being so thoroughly entered by night, but the tone feels more curious than frightened. Darkness here doesn't erase the body; it makes its fine detail noticeable.