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.]

Ode to Powerline

Related Posts

heart orchids

December 2024 Poetry Feature #1: New Work from our Contributors

JEN JABAILY-BLACKBURN
What do I know / about us? One of us / was called Velvel, / little wolf. One of us / raised horses. Someone / was in grain. Six sisters / threw potatoes across / a river in Pennsylvania. / Once at a fair, I met / a horse performing / simple equations / with large dice. / Sure, it was a trick, / but being charmed / costs so little.

November 2024 Poetry Feature: New Work from our Contributors

G. C. WALDREP
I am listening to the slickened sound of the new / wind. It is a true thing. Or, it is true in its falseness. / It is the stuff against which matter’s music breaks. / Mural of the natural, a complicity epic. / The shoals, not quite distant enough to unhear— / Not at all like a war. Or, like a war, in passage, / a friction of consequence.

Caroline M. Mar Headshot

Waters of Reclamation: Raychelle Heath Interviews Caroline M. Mar

CAROLINE M. MAR
That's a reconciliation that I'm often grappling with, which is about positionality. What am I responsible for? What's coming up for me; who am I in all of this? How can I be my authentic self and also how do I maybe take some responsibility?