16. Nightswimming

If the power tripped
and we were bathed in darkness
for a day or week or even a month
we’d notice how soft our voices become
around the light
of a single candle

Where sound moves slow like paint
and submerged, we listen deeper
we find our first lesson: that fear moves slowly too
like newborns, we learn how to live in the dark

Once, in a blackout, I lifted a floorboard
to make friends with the mama roaches
and I found a shimmering universe of mycelium
and silverfish
and all of us

Now I listen to all the nocturnal creatures
swaying their shining eyes
making constellations across our ceiling
underneath, we roar and scream and laugh,
dancing, colliding, writhing and buzzing
like generators

until we fold into each other
humming
with the energy of a million goosebumps at your touch
unsure where your fingertips end and my body begins
like penumbras
softly melding
in the momentum of a delicate breath

If the power tripped, we would make our own light
waiting for time to meet us
as we are.

---

Billie Desoe is a Naarm-based writer whose work is guided by the vibrance and joy of resistance. Their poetry brings together quiet and loud moments of humanity.