Open Circuit

I dragged the mahogany bookshelf away

to find the floor where the dust bunnies lay.

Behind the wood was a square of white wall,

untouched by the sunlight, forgotten by all.

There sat the outlet, two narrow black eyes,

staring out at the room with a look of surprise.

Five years of current just waiting to flow,

with nowhere for all of that power to go.

It’s a strange kind of ghost, this hole in the sheet,

a promise of energy never quite meet.

I stared at the slots, thinking of how we remain

wired for connections we can’t quite sustain.