last night, when
off to bed,
I threw the switch to kill the light, and
as if I’d thrown the breaker of the universe,
every light in sight was doused, every light
below   beyond   above   behind   was dead
except the light inside my head

—the window did not show
the steadfast street-lamp’s amber glow,
the lantern stars of town below
always lit at night were gone,
the range clock light didn’t blink,
the toaster’s red-dot LED seemed fully bled,
so there we were myself and me,
power out in darkest night instead,
unmoored, but still seeing, still being
by the light inside my head.

Jim Culleny