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Just a Light Bulb

by John Herzog

In how many ways
can one
destroy the light bulb
that I am?

For starters,
you could be simple:
pick me up
and hurl me
at the brick wall.
Just watch and laugh as I shatter
into a million shards of glass
out of my fragility,
my pieces lying
at your feet.
Go do it,
I dare
you.

If you'd like to get crafty,
just grip tight and
shake incessantly,
rattling me
over
and
over;
eventually,
the coiled filament
will just break loose
and bounce around the insides,
and no one will even notice the damage
as they glance disdainfully
at the exterior
of my dusty
shell.

Or, there's the sliest way of all:
screw me into the socket
and leave me running.
As the days become months
and the months become years,
my watts will deteriorate;
my light will diminish,
and I will just hang,
suspended from the
ceiling up-side
down, burnt
out.

12/27/2009

Author's Note: It's 2:33 a.m. Can I sleep now?

Posted on 12/27/2009
Copyright © 2021 John Herzog

Member Comments on this Poem
Posted by Kristina Woodhill on 12/27/09 at 03:38 PM

I especially enjoyed that last stanza. Thank you.

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