The Sudden Dark

A flick, a hum, then nothing.

The clatter of a fork,

suspended in the dark, a small thing

suddenly heard. The silent work

of circuits gone. No spark.

My hand reached out,

found glass, not light.

The stove's blank eye.

A sudden quiet, without a doubt,

a deeper sort of night.

I heard a sigh.

From where? My own breath,

held. The window, just a square

of less black. The useless fridge.

A quiet death

of purpose. I found a candle, there

on the shelf, near the ledge.

Its small flame, barely catching,

a nervous, orange heart.

It made the table edge

a sharp thing, watching.

Everything else pulled apart.

A tiny, bright privilege.