Lights Out

When the streets go dark
And the lines go down

Every choice comes
Racing back

Flooding the mind
With harsh judgments of
Prior judgments

Kicking oneself for
Not making better

More solid

Less shortsighted
Decisions

The trumpet in the skull plays
Brass tack blues

But there’s no time for tears

For the Angel still stoops low,
Her finger touches the surface of the sea

The waters rise and boil

And scarlet and ash cover the sky

Speech is all garbled,
Unintelligible noise

And the tower falls

Prayers simplify,
Becoming bread,
Water, candles

A second set of
Eyes and hands,
More bullets

The stranger outside
Does not look
Friendly

And yet, he is
Less dangerous
Than the one
Who does

©2026 Kevin Trent Boswell

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Author: Kevin Trent Boswell

Kevin Trent Boswell is a thing that once blinked briefly in and out of existence. It made noises and gestures while it lasted. The exact nature of its demise is unclear. Some sources say it collapsed beneath the weight of entropy and time. Other tertiary evidence suggests the possibility that it was destroyed by a predator, an accident, or perhaps even by itself. The truth of the matter is unknown. Luckily, no one cares.

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