observant observances observe the
observance. The long suffering
wall, leans in. As do the furnishings,
found, all
crowding around for what’s next, where they’ll be sent.
Boxes of lightbulbs
tumbling out across the bright glass of a
coffee table reliquary, half-buried. Always lit, the
switch never found. Knocking at the
front door, activating my
skeleton’s electric fence, termite-eaten posts
toppling, a mystery writer found the
switch.