In the Dark

And the lights go off; it’s Korea after all.
No power guarantee, even in Seoul – like Hawai‘i folks should talk.
All I need’s a napkin, for Christ’s sake.
No buzz, buzz, buzzing without juice now.
No chance for no response continuing.
No mean comeback coming, dire as death.
Not even sarcastic remarks because
they know, light or dark: it’s all Greek to me.
If they’re smirking at me now, how would I know?
In a backout there’s loads of quiet, and all we see
are faint flames licking from the gaslit cookery down the deep hall.
Like that famous light you can see when your soul’s set free.
All my relatives’ spirits reaching out to welcome me.
After which in whatever’s beyond, the rest might just be silence.