A singular
burning-out 
lightbulb
manages to find 
it’s way
through the dark. 

I grasp towards it
the dirt
brushing off
my heels
falling away
from my arches
sinking
 between my toes
as I stand
desperate 
for a lift off. 

If I can hold 
my hand to
the sputtering candle
of a bulb,
maybe I can 
wash the battery
acid off.
Maybe
I can forget
the feeling of acid
was ever there.