Tungsten

Standard


Let there be light,

Turn the knob twice,

Curled, Coiled,

Incandescent filament.

Glowing white-hot,

Between two prongs,

Until it all stops,

And pops-

A blue spark,

Flashes twice as bright,

When it’s burned for too long.

It all comes crumbling down,

Rolling around,

Disembodied,

In the bell jar.

You’re distracted,

By the floating, bluish,

Inkblots that slide,

Away from your line of sight.

You ask yourself “how many idiots does it take to screw in a lightbulb?”

But instead of answering, you quietly exit,

To find a replacement.