The power goes off and I blame possums
when I realise we're the only house
in darkness. You blame the Smartmeter,
the power company and defend
Over dinner (by camp-lantern light)
you tell me unequivocally
that one of my students - a bloke
you have never met -
was a pothead in his youth.
You weren't even supposed to be eating -
you'd put yourself on a three day fast.
(It lasted until three o'clock
of the first day, as predicted.)
We both say, everything's always my fault
in the same aggrieved tone.
You bring me a cup of tea and the world news
every morning before I'm awake.
I begin my days pessimistically with cold tea
while I listen to the possums in the ceiling
scrape nests in our insulation.
Of course, it wasn't a possum but a loose
connection that cut our power and when that
was fixed the whole house blazed again -
and isn't that how it always happens?
Catherine Bateson, 2013
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