Last week, I posted my eBook of poems. Since then I’ve devoted myself entirely to prose. But I’m still editing new poems. Here’s a little lyric about the dangers of light and electricity—especially when they travel in bulk to my incorrectly wired dryer at 220 volts.
Notice, how I distanced myself from the truth of this experience by casting it in 2nd person. That has the effect of protecting me from my own stupidity. But it also helps you feel the stupidity I felt. The whole poem becomes a kind of fated encounter leading each reader toward the inevitable (and temporary) darkness.
Honey, I Killed the Power
The sound light makes when it flashes
between two prongs of a four prong
dryer plug you just pushed in the socket
should warn you. A kurt hiss
always means step back and think.
Don’t just flip breakers back on.
Don’t leave the unhappy plug engaged.
Don’t turn the dryer on to see if it works,
to see if it’ll be able to dry your pants now.
It won’t.
Instead it will take all of the light
and throw it far far away
from the little washroom in the center
of the house far far from any windows.
And when every breaker on the switch
board clicks back and forth, you will hear
the dry snap of darkness and wish
you paid more attention to the light.
15 comments ↓
That was cute. I had to do a double take, because I misread “kurt hiss” as the thing that happens when one misjudges the distance between two faces, especially in sub-zero weather.
You remind me that I have an itch to try poetry. It has not blossomed into a full-blown mania, so I’ll try to ignore the itch for now.
Those breakers on the switch board clicking… the very sound of your poem at that point made me tense. Are you okay? Do you even still have your pants? Or did they get fried?
Yeh, I remember a “what do you mean that arcing flash on the fuse panel could have blinded me” when it knocked all the power in the house out moment.
LL, the real question is, were the pants on Marcus when they got fried! *giggle*
No, there were no pants in the dryer, and thank God, the pants on Marcus were not fried. However, when all the electricity went out in our brand new house only the second day of living there, I was a bit fried myself. But God works all things to the good of those that love Him, right? And, in my house, that good is often the resulting poem.
Hey, Amy, good to hear from you! [do you think this was all a stunt by Marcus, to not have to do any laundry?]
Does the dryer still work? LOL
No, but it may have been a stunt to gather material for poetry - you never know…….
Amy was responding to L.L. The dryer still works–which is a good thing because it was brand new, purchased for our new house as my wife pointed out.
I panicked and called the electrical company. These two guys came out in the middle of the night, showed me how to flip the outside breaker, laughed at my lack of manly home improvement knowledge, and then left.
I was just glad everything worked again.
Amy, yup. You’ve gotta watch out for those poetry guys!
Mark… all’s well that ends well, or at least all’s well that ends with a poem.
OK - I gave up hope on ever receiving any human response and just started another blog! Hopefully, this link will lead you to it!
Well, I’m glad no pants were injured in the making of this poem.
I think that’s an ingenious way to try to get out of doing laundry, Marcus. It reminds me of Shel Silverstein’s Poem, How Not to Have to Dry the Dishes:
If you have to dry the dishes
(such and awful boring chore.)
If you have to dry the dishes
(instead of going to the store.)
If you have to dry the dishes
and you drop one on the floor
maybe they won’t let you dry the
dishes anymore.
I LOVE your comment, Spaghettipie!
Spagettipie, we are big fans of Shel Silverstein at our house. Anyone with kids MUST buy one of his audio CDs.
It also reminds me. In the third grade, we had to memorize a 10 line poem. Ever the over achiever, I memorized a 30 line poem and recited it gleefully. To my teacher’s horror, I chose “Someone Ate the Baby.”
I still remember the teacher’s righteous indignation as I belched out the last line.
You see, if everyone belched poetry, I bet it would be a lot more popular.
Bravo!!