Blackout, George Witte (June 2026)

 

Blackout

What happened in the dark asphyxiates
years since: deserted knockdown, crawlspace hold,
socket jagged where the ceiling light snapped
 
off. Dead-end tunnel carved with hieroglyphs
commemorating those who took the dare
and entered, never seen again. Constrained
 
from oxygen the brain drifts out, then in,
flame guttering, moon dim through vagrant cloud.
Damp hands across the mouth pinch nostrils shut.
 
Some memories adhere as residue—
trace chemical or corrugated scab—
but faces disappear, as drainage ponds
 
beget and purge whatever thrives therein.
What happened in the dark stays dark because
you couldn’t look, but didn’t turn away.