My girlfriend and I began losing our
light bulbs.

It started innocently enough
no need to panic or mourn

the porch light or the one over the stove.
But then the vanity

light fizzled, my desk lamp and the living room.
They just flickered and died, turned

cold and smoky. We shook them
near our ears and heard

the rattle of death. No money, no way  
to replace them, each week

our lives became darker, and we
had always been night people

shunning the sun-shiny days with their
bright-eyed souls. We were soon down

to candles, but the wax rolled and fell
like the robes of martyrs

and even matches
ran scarce. We tried rubbing

our bodies together
but no sparks flew.

Night after night our voices
haunted each other in the dark

but I haven’t heard her in a long time,
can’t remember when I bumped into her last.