The Click-Darkness

I reached over to turn on the lamp

and the bulb popped. Click—

darkness instant. The clamp

of nothing where light had been quick

to fill the room. I sat

a moment, not moving.

Then got up, felt the slat

of heat in the glass, the proving

ground of the filament—

broken, jagged, dark.

The thing about the moment

of ending is it leaves no mark,

no warning. Just click

and the world switches

dark. I held it up quick

to the light, the stitches

of broken wire visible.

There's something about watching

what made the light possible

go dark, the watching

of it, the knowing

that nothing warns you,

the light just stops glowing

and you're alone. It's true—

I didn't even notice

the exact second. One moment

there was light, the notice

came after, and the moment

had already passed.

I put a new bulb in.

It worked. But the last

thing I felt was the sin

of wanting to stay

in that dark a little longer.