Lambent light is thrown from one corner to the other
of this bare room, save for a bed and lamp.
Ah, I remember the lamp –
every line in its web pattern,
climbing the base
until it hits the bulb;
the incandescent bulb, throwing its light from wall to wall,
stretching the walls
of this bare room, save for a lamp and bed – my only comfort.
A cold, hard bed – my only comfort.
