The power went at six o’clock

The power went at six o’clock.

Now the fridge has stopped its heavy thrum

and the apartment feels like a box

waiting for a sound to come.

Then a woman’s laugh cut through the lath,

a bright, jagged spark from 4B.

It’s a messy sound, a sudden path

that doesn't have anything to do with me.

My glass of water caught the vibration,

a tiny ring on the surface in the dark.

She’s having a whole different conversation

while I’m just sitting here, waiting for a spark.