i made myself drive
down the broken couch street
with the ice cream truck
and the suspicious gazes
to the dark place
where the woman is cast
away from busy eyes
like mine
and i readied the needle
and the papers and tubes
of the outside world
but there was no light
a broken bulb hung
from a bare filament
threatening for months, or years
that are not counted anymore
after a hurried glance
at the time that i keep
i disarmed the darkness
in a victory too swift for merit
i didn’t stop but i heard
when her broken voice muttered
“God is good.”
there will be dark places
i will choose not to see
and streets i will choose not to drive
but today,
today i changed a light bulb.
— Hector “Edwin” Tamayo, MD
back to top
