Dimming

Just now the light
flickered and the sound
of the dryer broke before
kicking in again, and

I began to wonder if these things
were real, or was I dead or dying
for one moment, the world I know
collapsing and then reexpanding

to its original size all in the course
of a single dimming.
It doesn’t matter now
as I am here, alive, and full and bright again,

but from now on I’ll be waiting for it to happen,
and when it happens at last I have to believe
it’ll be that swift — and I’ll have no flashlight, offer no fight
against the dark on that night; calm

as an old filament, I’ll just fall apart
and rest. It’ll be quick. The sound
will fail, the light will fail, and I’ll be sitting
in the dark, wondering what just happened.