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.