Here’s a poem I found in my drafts

“The Nearby Death”

The nearby death is an EMP.
You go dark and silent.
You, and you, and everyone in range.

Your functions shut down.
This is simple.  The simplest.
All the noise goes quiet.

Remember where you were.

Remember where she was, at the epicentre.
Her loss, the pulse.

Here is the pause.

Remember where you are.

Your generator, here:
You left it ready for this.
You knew this dark would come.

Fire it with your arm.

Its fuel is old and stale.
It makes noise and light.

You make light, with your body,
with your old and filthy fuel.
Start up again.

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