Power Outage

Roshni Riar
tla eas

Rain sloshes down in heavy sheets,
distorts our view from behind the
windows. A lady stands at the bus stop

outside. Her umbrella jolts and spasms
in her white-knuckled grip, tendons
Pere S dn cR Ke BOC Vente Vee Cesiia Key B

She doesn't know the neighbourhood
watches her, our last form of entertainment
TrOMa Ke eeCaMItte Ree VeReren AIR ee uate
Aromatase i oieieecee (ey emai

street, desperate as rain pools at her feet.
It’s a sad act playing out in front of us
eitimd eRe me EO ee Beeld
know the buses have been cancelled.

ACSC eBid CK sie mCone
black. A vicious wind rips at her umbrella
and she reels, struggles to stay dry.

FN e Maer mel cow imi Cel yal
the street. As she clambers after it,
the lights come back to life.

The TV flickers on.

We turn our heads, resume our lives.

Her temporary distraction no longer needed,
forgotten as a blushing newscaster fumbles
to catch up on everything we missed.

 

the one with the
tambourine

 

Jasper Milne
Contributor

 

Youre pristine and perfect,
Your eyes aglow and not a hair out of place,
Comfortable and composed.

I'm touchy and irrational,
Lame but manic at the best of times
Compared to you.

Yet you found me fascinating for a few months,
Until I fell out of your niche,
And the flames flared before my eyes.

I was just too hot to handle, you said.
You couldn't see that I was broken.
Or maybe you didn't care.

Nevertheless, life goes on
And the crowds smile for you yet again,
The applause deafening in my ears.

You're beautiful up there,
In front of that adoring audience,

Dazzling in your concerto dress.

I'm the one in the back, holding the tambourine.