Alkaline

The darkness in the basement is thick,

a heavy wool blanket over the washing machine.

I hit the side of the plastic casing

until the bulb flickers into a weak,

jaundiced orange.

It doesn't reach the fuse box.

It barely reaches my own boots.

Inside the tube, the two D-cells

rattle with a hollow, metallic thud,

shrunk by the cold or just leaked out.

I'm tracing the wall with my free hand,

feeling for the cold bite of the metal door.

The beam is a dying eye,

shrinking to a pinprick of useless light

before the filament finally goes dark.