Plastic Glow

My niece's nightlight, a plastic mouse,

plugged low in the hall socket.

It casts a sickly yellow glow,

just enough to make the shadows

stretch longer, not shrink.

A small lie against the dark,

a cartoon face keeping watch.

She sleeps, I guess, believing it.

But the shape of the coat rack

is still the shape of a man,

just waiting, at the edge of the weak light.