Powerless!A Poem by David Lewis PagetThe sun had not even risen when Delaney opened his eyes, To colours, bent through a prism, and Rotating there in the skies. He thought it might be the Northern Lights But they’re not seen that far south, And with them came a crackling sound To sow the first seeds of doubt.
He rose and walked to the window, To stand by the sliding door That led to his private balcony On the hundred and twentieth floor, The world below was in darkness and In shock, he began to shout: ‘Hey Mary, get up and look at this, The lights of the city are out!’
The lights of the city were out, all right, There wasn’t a glimmer of light, In all the teeming metropolis Not even a car’s headlight. Mary sleepily rose from bed And joined him there by the door, ‘It isn’t the dark that does my head, What’s that on the balcony floor?’
And there in the shade of the balcony Was standing a monstrous beast, Its talons several inches long, Its beak was a foot, at least, It suddenly opened enormous wings Then steadily folded them back, With eyes that promised a thousand things And one, the threat of attack.
It saw them there through the plated glass And rushed across for its prey, Hit the glass and it looked surprised The two were backing away. ‘Call the firemen, call the police, That thing will need to be shot.’ ‘The signal seems to have gone astray, And the cell phone’s all we’ve got!’
The sun came up through the morning mist And it lit the city square, Delaney got his binoculars, Nothing was moving there. The power was out, so there was no doubt They were locked in their flat, for sure, The door to the stairwell wouldn’t budge On the hundred and twentieth floor.
No light, no heat, and down in the street No cars that streamed that day, It was just as if electricity Had suddenly gone away. Their door had a pin, and powered lock As did every door below, A hundred and twenty floors locked in With nowhere they could go.
The day wore on in the morning sun And the birds had multiplied, Looking like pterodactyls they Swooped over the countryside, And five came down on the balcony Of Delaney and Mary’s flat, The food in the fridge was spoiling as The ice dripped out on the mat.
They couldn’t cook, they couldn’t eat, They couldn’t open a can, The electric opener wouldn’t work Nor the cleverer works of man, And the pterodactyls sat in a row Out on the balcony floor, With eyes of hate they would sit and wait Til someone slid open the door!
David Lewis Paget © 2015 David Lewis PagetFeatured Review
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