Alkaline

The sleet is a rattle on the garage door,

I’m trying to see the concrete floor.

The power is out and the house is cold,

the flashlight beam is a dim, weak gold.

I’m shaking the plastic, I’m losing the light,

just when I need to see into the night.

I’m shaking the casing, I’m losing the race,

while the shadows are moving all over the place.