when
the power goes out, i feel
my way
to the kitchen
to find
the matches and the candle.
the flashlight
is hopelessly
lost, somewhere in a drawer.
i set the candle
in a plate
and light the wick.
there's enough wobbly brightness
to get around
the room
then up the stairs.
the dog follows, unbothered
by it all.
but it worries me.
what about the ice box
full of food,
the clocks,
the computer, the tv.
what is there left to do?
i can hardly
read a book,
or write,
i could never be a pioneer.
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