Happened upon Schwartz’s
“In the Naked Bed, in Plato’s Cave”
and stalled at the title. I peered into
“The Allegory of the Cave” too often
and after reading was never illuminated
so, after sunset in tonight’s nightshade I
light a candle in living room’s black hole
and orbit around watching my shadow
parade over flickering walls plasma screen
bookcase window curtains swaying from the AC
then vigil-still study my shadow. Blow
out the candle. The red-hot tip dims,
dies. My shadow plunges into pitch.
What is this cave I know too well?