Blackout – Toby Fitch

At some point, the power went out.
You thought you’d left your appliance

on too long, or the gin was wearing off.
Still, you felt your way down the

stairwell of vanishing spirits
to see what all the din was about,

passing from inner blackness into the
deeper blank of the inner west,

and still couldn’t see it, whizzing past
your ears, nor the clear, high-beam

eyes of the local wildlife that’d crept
down eucalypts, across dewy grass

to stop at the gaps in the fences.
The animals could see it, though:

you, turned to stone, your kids
swinging from the power-lines,

squealing with joy, and the air,
alive with evaporating sparks.