Letter from Egg Lake Road
       

It troubles me to tell you the sky today
is the color of an unlit bulb
and that predictions call for the extinction

of Edison's incandescent.
I'll miss filaments, those fragile insects
that break when shaken, their sound

like sleet on a skylight, and the beauty
of the inner ear. I confess
wasted hours under the gooseneck lamp,

erasing. Some things
we'll never know. This house
between two trees, I can't say

how it holds me, or explain the deer
who graze outside its glass and then so surely
disappear.

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Copyright © 2015 Erin Malone All rights reserved
from Hover
Tebot Bach
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission