Douglas Cole

And That Darkness

 
Woke up in the middle of the night in the middle of a windstorm and saw
that all the homes were dark, the power gone out in our part of the city,
just black cubes, black rooftops and the black sea, and I thought for a moment
something critical had happened, a catastrophe, war, meteor, or ancient virus.
I thought some big damage had been done, still fresh from dream with dream
thoughts, like, go out and look for survivors, assess the damage, get water.
You see, the wind was still delivering a right cross and an uppercut to the world,
things wild in motion that were typically still. And that darkness. How to describe it?
Like an abandoned theater, as I wander through these empty rooms
because there’s no one else here. It’s like time has been happening without me,
alone now, putting my hands against the cold window where my breath turns white
on the glass as I say into my own face, Wake up! Wake up!

 
 

Douglas Cole has published six collections of poetry and a novella. His work has appeared in several anthologies as well as The Chicago Quarterly Review, The Galway Review, Bitter Oleander, Louisiana Literature and Slipstream. He has been nominated twice for a Pushcart and Best of the Net and received the Leslie Hunt Memorial Prize in Poetry. He lives and teaches in Seattle.

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