The Sudden Snap

Curled up, a half-read page

heavy in my lap. The lamp above,

the one with the parchment shade,

gave a brief, stuttering shudder.

A pause.

Then a sharp, precise click, a small pop

like a dry twig snapping inside

the glass dome. The room, which was bright,

was not. Not dark, but gone. Flattened.

Just the faint glow from the streetlights

through the blinds, and the hum

of the refrigerator, suddenly louder.

A faint, hot dust smell,

the ghost of electrical work.

I stood on a chair later,

peering in. A tiny, broken hair,

a wisp of dark, burnt wire,

right there. The end of that particular light.