Maybe someone forgot
to turn them on
or perhaps it is a central power failure
but the street lamps are out
the moon has deserted the earth
and viewed through their veil of clouds,
stars are many, sharp and shining
Black is a blanket
that covers the village,
on our street not a building can be seen,
as though it has not been constructed yet
and we are in the midst of wilderness;
the steps down to our house fade into nothingness,
the house itself has disappeared inside the blackness,
while the little black dog is simply invisible
It is all
reminiscent of past periods
when we blacked out windows,
taped them so they wouldn't explode
when a missile hit us, or worse.
When street lamps
are out
the stars are exquisite
and we remember war
This poem won an
honourable mention in the Poetica 2008 Annual Contest.
