Water Above, Water Below Poem by Diane Lee Moomey

The lights are going out, dear—one
by one. Circuits short—listen! the crack

of lines downed, drowned by water rising
from the dark beneath our feet. Wicks,

damp, go limp, collapse in lipid puddles,
hissing. Flashlights flicker, fail in swamps

new-made by dams broken, oaths broken.
Water goes where water will, filling:

water mixed with gas, soaking wood,
bringing to the surface pestilence

once hid. Listen! filaments of bulbs—
bright, their wires thin as hairs—now snap.

Tungsten ringlets droop. One shakes the glass
in disbelief—only tinkling

within. The lamps are going out, dear,
one by precious one and it's for us

to choose to live in darkness or, blind
and trembling, make for higher ground

and set ourselves alight.