Waiting Game (poem)

It’s a waiting game with changing rules.
Day turns to night and everything’s cooled
except for you.
I’ve learned not to ask questions
when you’re mad and quiet.
These are life lessons that I do
not challenge. I roll along
here, across from where you stare
into the blurring haze of dusk
where stars may start to burn
and it’s my turn to flip a switch inside.
Electricity was discovered, not invented.
Channeled, not controlled. I am your bulb
and I might break or fizz out
before this darkness makes you shout
about all the reasons you need me
to lose. It’s not a fight that I choose
but I can’t tell you no.
Instead, I say it’s the way
I learned to play this game: turn the board
and close your eyes, please, for me.