Share this:

Blackout

On the coldest night of the year,
a squirrel picked a fight
with the transformer
at the top of a power pole.

Neither made it out alive,
and the lights went out,
and the heat and the Internet
and I went out, too,
to stare down our street
of dark houses,
with their black-windowed faces
and the frost in their yards.

Beyond our neighborhood,
the rest of the city glowed,
still bright, still flushed electric,
still full of warmth and motion,
and I realized we were alone
with the cold and the dark,
left to huddle under our blankets
and try to rub ourselves warm.

Before I went inside
to fumble for candles
and flashlights,
I stopped,
just for a moment,
and imagined this must be
what a foot feels like
on the wrong side
of a blood clot.

This poem was originally published under the pen name Gabriel Gadfly.
Your support makes poetry like this possible. Become a Patron today and unlock exclusive Patron-only poetry and other perks!

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

*