Power Outage

Please do not forget how it sounded,
when the thirsty, power-starved city
swallowed every light pool it owned,
and, in that leaching, our shadowy
apartment cracked it’s dry hardpan back.

We tended toward that cavernous silence.
We stayed within a range of voices
begging us nearer the waining broadcast
from the humble radio which dragged
two batteries, one for each weak speaker.

And the refrigerator, too, a pack-animal
laid quietly on its side, deflating
behind dark rooms and passageways.
We scheduled showers and politely
rationed our last civilized endowments.

Outside, the dark buildings of the skyline
whistled like emptied bottles placed in rows.
In our windows we looked back and saw
silhouettes move in the drawn blinds.
Candlelight danced in the house without us.

To say we parceled all our luxuries
fails a few quiet moments we did come
together: an embrace in the doorway,
pulling the stopped cork from lukewarm
wine, odd footfalls in the same rooms.

But remember how it sounded, birth pains
of a century resonating all around us:
sirens, TVs, wave-lengths, radio towers,
an intense growl from between the walls
like Hell itself lost control of its furnace.

Do not forget the very real presence of it
edged back into our lives, at your ear now,
interrupting us; how this noise overhead
is an excuse, and does nothing to explain
that most natural silence of ours underneath.

Reviews

[Ruth]

Woahhhh, and the fall after the experience, suffocating and well written! I like your style a lot love! I sometimes wonder what the hell we did without modern comforts you know!
A brilliant piece
xx