Read Poems by Bill Turnbull

  

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A Glorious Death

A Glorious Death
~
The light bulb flickers.
Still, I do not move.
I could turn over and look the other way
but there is beauty in death.
I watch from my bed, with curiosity.
I can hear the creaking of the filaments
as they are about to break,
like a wounded animal
crying to the night sky
with the darkness encroaching
and the wolves licking their lips.
It won't be long now.
The intervals between are growing longer.
Soon, the bulb will cease to burn.
The shadows will consume the bathroom
and my eyes will adjust,
becoming those of a night creature,
making out the shapes that
hide under the blanket of night.
A crackle startles me, then a brilliant
buzz of electricity sparks-
a pop signals the bulb's inevitable demise.
The coils recede, blackened and singed.
It is over. It was a glorious death.
The light bulb flickers, no more.
~

BLT

Copyright © Bill Turnbull | Year Posted 2025