The dimmer switch is canting down
and flowers on the table are in silhouette.
I know the contours of this room so well,
know the path across so I don't stub my toe;
where one dining chair's leg tangles
with another, mars in the untangling,
so I lift it up and over gently to sit down.
You want to push the toggle all the way
to dark, but let me have this twilight
'til my heart adjusts, OK?
Sarah Russell lives in State College, PA with a patient husband and a curly dog named Smudge. Her poetry has appeared in Kentucky Review, Red River Review, Misfit Magazine, Black Poppy Review and Shot Glass Journal, among others. Follow her work at www.SarahRussellPoetry.com