By Courtney Siebring
The night went dark
when transformers blew,
when all across our city
the mosquito hum of fridges
and fluorescent bulbs hushed.
All shut down
but we switched on,
lit candles,
told jokes,
played our grandparents’ games:
cribbage, spades,
ate softening ice cream.
When I miss you now,
I walk past you in the hall,
down the basement stairs.
I trip the breakers
and come up in the dark
to find you.
Courtney Siebring is a poet, children’s author, voice actor, and military spouse. You can find more of her work at Paraclete Press and The Way Back To Ourselves.