Losing Range

Power cut. I found the flashlight,

clicked it on—a copper stain

that barely reached the wall. I squeezed

the barrel hard. Squeezed again.

The circle on the ceiling shrank.

An iris going shut.

The room didn't get dark, exactly.

The room just got cut.

Forty minutes, then the power came.

Every wall, every corner, bright and flat.

I liked the smaller version better.

Not sure what to do with that.