The Maynard
Fall 2018

Glow Stick Fingers

The ceiling light misplaced its bulb,
so we watch the lampshades draw
crayon shadows on the walls
before drawing their curtains shut.

We go spelunking
through the hallway and I
peek between my fingers,
light switching them on/off, open/shut.

I’m hoping for glowworms, for
clusterwinks, for comb jellyfish;
I’m looking to make my own light.

Instead, we hang artwork in neon.
Instead, we replace the baseboards
with flashlights, the doorknobs
with candles.

Instead, we step outside.