By Steve Evans.
The dark is suddenly louder
and I am still.
The stove clock says
not even its usual zero.
Light retreats along its wires.
The outside comes in.
Then the house feels me
through my own fingers
as I query drawers and cupboards
for matches or a torch.
Doubting, I pull curtains open
as, doubtless, others do
all over town,
each of us checking our invisibility
to confirm we’re not alone.
