The house is dark.
It’s just we two.
The tone of your voice and the way you stress the syllable tell me where to find you.
In the absence of any other light, the glow of the monitor in front of you tints your five-o’clock shadow blue.
You wear your usual squint above your customary scowl.
Bending over your shoulder, I anticipate the struggle inherent in overcoming your dilemma.
And the screen goes dark.
I twist the knob on a lamp that answers with an empty click.
I flip an impotent switch on a darkened wall, and, as I move into the next room, I feel you behind me.
The weight of your need bears down upon me as I struggle to find another source of light.
A third switch fails to respond.
Your hands, bearing down upon my shoulders, and your hot breath, coming quickly against my neck, threaten to overwhelm me.
My pace slows, as I wonder how you expect to be protected and supported by one who can not find her way,
in the absence of light.
© Copyright 2007-2008 Stacye Carroll
Are We There Yet? 
