Four Watts

The plastic seashell flickered and died,

leaving the hallway a cavern of ink.

I felt a sudden, sharp cold inside

that didn't give me the time to think.

I tripped on a boot and hit the baseboard,

reaching for a wall that felt too far away.

It’s a cheap little bulb I can well afford,

but it’s the only thing keeping the panic at bay.

That sickly orange glow was a lie,

just a four-watt promise that the floor was there.

Now I’m standing here, wondering why

I’m suddenly afraid of the empty air.