Current

I drag the orange snake across the floor

and jam it past the hinge of every door.

The corner needs a light to kill the gloom,

to reach the far and dusty side of the room.

The plastic’s warm and smells of ancient grit,

where copper teeth and silver sockets fit.

The neck is split, a frayed and metal vein,

showing the wires that carry all the strain.

I shove the prongs into the looseness of the wall

and wait for light to flicker or to fall.

It catches once, a buzz within the bone,

leaving the lamp to shiver on its own.