perhaps I live several lives
perhaps there is another me
on some dim and dusky shore
at a different smattering of stars
on a different canvas of sky.
and clouds, smooth
and balmy waves
that lick my scratchy
The power went out at three thirty today
and won’t be back until late tomorrow (they say)
so tonight people sleep in darkness, alone
with thoughts of their families they contact by phone.
Without TV, internet, or the refrigerator: I’m bored.
Since nothing I love functions without a cord.
No music, only sirens that blare in the distance
rushing through the dark to whoever needs assistance.
Every house on this street has one window
with the tell-tale orange of a candle aglow,
creating shadows on the street that dance and flicker
mind-made illusions—- but my heart still beats quicker.
On the radio, neighbors call in to give word of
public school closure (and their opinions —- it’s unheard of
for an entire region’s electricity to fizzle out so neatly,
the result of one electrician messing up so completely)
but the stars have never been this visible and many
and the moon in the sky is as bright as a penny
with a warm silver light that puts me at ease
in the midst of such chaos, an unlikely sense of peace.
There is a love letter taped to the break room’s
paint chipped door.
An awkward, bubbling stream of
thoughts stumbling into
a crumpled yellow sea of
lines: a sailor’s
humble sonnet to the vessel that
keeps him afloat.