Trips
In time the rain stopped,
the clouds moved along,
a sky full of stars, hundreds
if not thousands of them
long dead, just no one knows it yet.
The power came back on,
I blew out the candle,
she put the deck of cards
back in the kitchen drawer
that holds the good scissors,
ink pens, and credit card
used once to gain a discount
on the couch she sleeps on
when the bed is too crowded,
or the room too warm.
Illuminated, we went back
to our separate screens,
she to nurse worries over money,
an amorphous future,
but seeing as I’d won
the last hand, three queens
to her two pair,
I felt better than I did
before the rain began.
14 thoughts on "Trips"
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I appreciate your beautifully rendered brutal candor about our pettiness
It’s amazing how a power outage can come as something of a blessing. Such an honest poem, man.
Great poem. Very satisfying in its own way. I how you illuminate the poem with stars, candles, computers.
The way you weave each detail and connect them so seamlessly is amazing. This poem flows so well.
so good:
the trips of many kinds,
the ordinary blackout
becomes the point
of illumination
and maybe some resignation
A light and lighter illuminated fabric of life and the complexities of companionship.
Beautifully simple on the page and so rich.
Great cadence and intimate tone throughout.
Wonderful, Bill. You have been on fire this month!
This is a nice scene, and a sweet little peek into the speaker’s life. I especially like the bit about the couch.
This was such a nice smooth read.
I agree with Lee. Sometimes those power outages are a Godsend. But the moment it comes back on, everyone goes back to their screens, even though that card game was probably the most important interaction that could have happened that day. Very well done, sir!
Wonderful! I love how “but seeing as I’d won / the last hand” restores a sense of equilibrium to this day of “long-dead stars” and financial worries. So cinematic and a joy to read and uncover this grey day of yours! Very relatable, too.
So good, Bill! The darkness of power outages often brings us together for entertainment/company – something we usually discard when the lights come back on and we go back to our singular worlds.
I think one of the biggest lessons I learned writing over the past year is to trust the reader. This poem does that beautifully.