Desk Lamp
A poem about the night

It’s never quite nighttime, With a desk lamp on. Just a much smaller daytime, For a city of one.
This miniature sunlight, Like a harnessed star. Wrapped up in plastic, Atop a metal bar.
Not fuelled by the cosmos, Plugged instead into a socket. Less fusion, more voltage, Batteries stashed there in his pocket.
It might be 4am out, The blackness of the night. But it’s daytime on his desktop, Morning pouring from his light.






