Bulb

For Sale to Sold in a flash.
Soon to be evacuated, ejected from the hold it has. A number on a door. Tears in the rattle of the letter box. Cheap coconut matting where scuffed boots masked the time. The kettle boiled
a hundred thousand steaming
to be cups of tea.
Tracing
imprints in the snow that disappeared and comes again
now. Goes.
Setting like a paw print
in wet concrete.
But for no reason I am forgetting all but the light switch without a light in the sitting room.
I used to flick and stare up at where a light might have been, seeing it not coming on.
I wonder if someone now will
Put one in and we might feel
Not being there, the things
We didn’t feel?