Pendulum

Turn out the light, she tells me.

But anything could happen when I turn out the light. I could get into bed. We could sleep. Someone might be lurking in the shadows. Some thing.

The great pendulum dangles before me. What started its movement? It counts down the moments, each one getting smaller, each one getting closer, each one right behind.

Anything could happen. If I turn out the light tomorrow will come. Tomorrow will come, I am hopeless, and hopelessly sure.

Then I'll do it, she tells me. She climbs over me.