Power's Out

A collection of poems I wrote in the 9-day power outage I just suffered due to obnoxiously timed snowstorm.

ash floats down and curls around

the pencil-sketch silhouettes

of New England trees.

it fills worn ruts in roads

and piles upon the asphalt plains

of suburbia, where above each neighborhood

clouds loom dark and tall

like sick tenements.

there is glass pressed against my face

and the faces of my neighbors,

who stand huddled in their homes

staring towards sallow air

where a few last hints of warmth

disappear behind dense black flakes

of human transgression. 


the sky flutters gray to the ground,

and drags down a chorus of eyes. 


my brother stares;

does radiation smell? he asks,

cutting through the ambient drone

of our street’s harmonizing generators.

I don’t know, I say.

 daddy, dad---

dad, does radiation smell?

The End

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