Inventory

The bulb went out with a pop and a spark,

leaving me blind by the sink.

I’m clawing through wood in the heavy dark,

too tired to even think.

My fingers catch on a plastic nest

of ties for the trash and the bread.

A battery’s stuck to a lozenge’s chest,

its power long since dead.

There’s a matchbook here with a missing face,

and a key that doesn't have a door.

I’m looking for light in a crowded space

on a kitchen’s dirty floor.