Ode to Powerline

Winner of the 2022 DISQUIET Prize for Poetry

By DARIUS SIMPSON 

 “if you’re ever lonelayyyy, stop, you don’t have to be.”
Powerline                                    

you, thrust open leather vest glisten chest in the desert
you, both knee beggin in silver pants plus rain
you, break a lover wide to see what lyrics may flow                                                            

chorus basically a moan stretched out the measure 
of a messy long distance relationship run its course
and the reason i know Max was a Black boy 
and you was the first star he seen sparkle his hue
VHS says fiction but i recognize them shoulders
descendent of moonwalk-glitter-glove solos
i know a bad mufucka by how the spotlight 
don’t even add much to the performance
i know Jodeci’s lost member when i see it 
Sisqo’s inspiration for Afrofuturist aesthetic
heard it’s a planet out there missin a spades partner
heard it’s a sunrise somewhere waitin to go down you
the one who taught me if you love someone
you better get on stage and make em feel 
like the only person in a packed auditorium
like the last scoop of warm peach cobbler
another Black superhero with another
electric superpower / the jig is up 

 

Darius Simpson is a writer, educator, performer, and skilled living-room dancer from Akron, Ohio. He believes in the dissolution of empire and the total liberation of Africans and all oppressed people by any means available. Free The People. Free The Land. Free All Political Prisoners.

[Purchase Issue 24 here.]

From the beginning, The Common has brought you transportive writing and exciting new voices. We are committed to supporting writers and maintaining free, unrestricted access to our website, but we can’t do it without you. Become an integral part of our global community of readers and writers by donating today. No amount is too small. Thank you!

Ode to Powerline

Related Posts

New York City skyline

Lawrence Joseph: New Poems

LAWRENCE JOSEPH
what we do is // precise and limited, according to / the Minister of Defense, // the President / is drawing a line, // the President is drawing / a red line, we don’t want to see  / a major ground assault, the President says, / it’s time for this to end, / for the day after to begin, he says, // overseer of armaments procured

rebecca on a dock at sunset

Late Orison

REBECCA FOUST
You & I will grow old, Love, / we have grown old. But this last chance // in our late decades could be like the Pleiades, winter stars seen by / Sappho, Hesiod & Galileo & now by you & me. // Let us be boring like a hollow drill coring deep into the earth to find / its most secret mineral treasures.

Waiting for the Call I Am

WYATT TOWNLEY
Not the girl / after the party / waiting for boy wonder // Not the couple / after the test / awaiting word // Not the actor / after the callback / for the job that changes everything // Not the mother / on the floor / whose son has gone missing // I am the beloved / and you are the beloved