Aftermath by Lisa Baird

She saves spent light bulbs,
wraps blown bulbs tenderly
in tissue saved from birthday parties,
stows them in stacked boxes,
carefully labeled as close as she can get
to the exact time the tungsten fragmented.
She holds a service for each one,
wept over the first few dozen,
but there are hundreds now. She is old
and has done this for a long time.
Next spring she will empty the closets,
unpack every row in the basement,
take shovel to earth along the lane
and bury each bulb,
grow dark flowers
from dead light.


Date: 2018

By: Lisa Baird (19??- )

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