The Balloon

Utter darkness descends
a contagion of screams
quick touch
lighter clicks
toes stubbed

“Where’s the flashlight?”
says the man
“Where’s the phone?”
says the woman
“What happened to my game?”
wails the child

Flashlight bobs
a stream of muted cursing
candles flare
buzz, beep beep
the phone connects

“A balloon hit the substation.”
says the woman
“A balloon.”
says the man
“Will my game come back on?”
wails the child

Utter silence descends
a contagion of sighs
fingers drum
chair scrapes
toes tap

“Might as well go to bed.”
says the man
“She’s not gonna sleep.”
says the woman
“What did you do in the old days?”
asks the child

And off they ran
in the bloated heat
out into the near night
and under forgotten stars
they danced with their shadows
in a field flush with moonlight
and fireflies

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About shannadodd

I'm a writer and a collector of words. I also tend to collect homeless critters. Currently, in addition to blogs, poems and books, I'm writing my second novel and beginning a graphic design business. When I'm not writing, I'm reading or cleaning or feeding someone. I hope you enjoy my poetry. I try, with my poems, to create pictures with words. I consider it art but not with my chin thrust out or my nose pointing skyward, it's art in the sense that like the painter or photographer I want to capture a moment or event or question. If I do that for you, I've succeeded. Thank you for reading and for your comments. It's means so much to me that folks are reading my poems.
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