Unplugged

The transformer blew with a sudden crack,

and the kitchen went hollow and deep.

The house is a cave, and the night is back,

while the rest of the neighborhood’s asleep.

I tripped on a sneaker and cursed at the air,

then struck a match for a candle’s pink wax.

The fridge isn't breathing, the silence is bare,

holding the orange flare against the cracks.