Today's poem

POWER CUT

He was juggling a poem
of her, of Brahms
of a certain plaster head (untitled)
when all the light went
and she turned on him, spitting
and Brahms gurgled into silence
and the bleached blind head said "Death"
and he let all three fall to the floor and smash
being (as he had suspected all along)
blind and powerless and afraid.