POEM: Plot Twist

Plot Twist

Twenty minutes into a Bergman film,
the projector went dark.
I heard a faint buzzing, like a distant bee
describing a flower to friends.
No loud pop, no smell of smoke.
Just darkness. And silence.

This was going to be a serious poem,
but as I was writing that last line
the kitten fell onto my head
from the bookshelf above me.
Science is wrong:
They don’t always land on their feet.

/ / /

7 January 2025
Charlottesville VA