lights off

he pinched
the Lincoln penny so
hard that
it turned into
a string of copper
wire.
no light
left on, or drizzle
from a spigot.
string
and boxes all saved
for that
rainy day.
and now, old,
as he sits, staring
out the cold
window
in the same
shoes, the same
chair, alone,
he stares
at his thread
worn
pants, he thinks
about spoiled milk,
he wonders
if he can sew
that tear.