Reading Cavafy by Candlelight

The storm we’ve been fearing hit tonight.
It brought down redwoods and power lines
and half a mile away, a transformer exploded,
sending up blue sparks bright as fallen stars.

I’m glad to live with you here, in these mountains,
even though awful things have happened—
when that car flipped and littered the road with glass,
when the sky was filled with smoke all November,
when you were so sick the state of California called
and I drove you to urgent care for intravenous fluids.

Now, this storm threatens to flood
our small apartment, and there’s nothing to do
but wait on the couch with you in the dark.

This must be what straight couples
think of when they’re told for better or worse.

We haven’t talked about marriage
but next month marks five years together,
a length of time that once seemed impossible.

Who am I without you in my life?
The answer, like a burning wick.
I love you with all my insufficient words.

William Ward Butler is a writer and educator from Northern California. His poems have appeared in Assaracus, Bodega Magazine, Hobart, and other journals. He works for the Young Writers Program in Santa Cruz and teaches Word Lab, a free after-school creative writing program for middle school and high school students. He is a poetry reader for The Adroit Journal and has received support from the Napa Valley Writers’ Conference, the Catamaran Writing Conference, and the Wellstone Center in the Redwoods.