flashlight. an old lamp
kept
on the top shelf of the hall
closet
along with
hats and gloves, winter
boots
and salt for the steps
off the porch
when ice arrives.
i flick
the switch and the beam
shoots across
the room,
making light where
there was none
with the power down.
good
bones, good steel,
strong
batteries.
like you, my dear.
bright when darkness
tries to overcome.
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