What to do in the dark? Write a poem

Power Cut

Tasks from a lost time come again.
Prise set wax from candlesticks
and put those that have burned down
on the oil stove to melt. Bed in
new white candles for the coming night.

Bed in the self, as well, soon after dark.
No coloured screen will titillate,
no music from rotating disc beguile
and slide time by. Each minute is
a noted process, each in-breath
an unearned small success
in this pattern that is not yet death.

Power will return, a travelled son
back in his room yet somehow magical,
a trapeze flier whose nonchalant skill
makes perfect connection seem simple.
Wonder fades. The audience
will cease to marvel, and will soon forget
that the slightest hand-slip brings the cold.

Alison Prince