Outage by Daniel Edward Moore
Maggie Finch on today’s bonus poem: Daniel Edward Moore’s “Outage” is contrary to its very title: this poem is electric. The movement of this poem is born from its charged lyric and its steadfast honesty. But above all, this poem bleeds with desire—a desire for some kind of certainty or for a different kind of universe than the one in which we currently exist. The power behind such desperation, wonder, and play makes Moore’s piece one that’s truly captivating. (Plus, I cannot deny a poem with some well-placed pop culture references.)
Outage
I refuse to count the walls between us,
refuse to burden word after word
with silky green leaves of resentment
sprouting through each silence.
They would only grow a violent vision
from the back of your mind,
far from the street, to a white-knuckle bed
losing its grip on should we get undone.
If it breaks down to those glorious winks
you made the world a mirror for,
if it rises like a ten-story savior
with hail shattering nail scarred windows
opened by last night’s storms, remember
how hard you prayed to the sun
before I watched the bulb of your face
give up the ghost of glass.
Remember the last words Power said,
I want you to hurt like me
not kiss me when I fall.
You’re far too bright for that.
Daniel lives in Washington on Whidbey Island. His poems are forthcoming in Weber Review, The Cape Rock, Kestrel, RipRap, The Timberline Review, River Heron Review, Passengers Journal, The Night Heron Barks, Coachella Review, Ocotillo Review, and Nebo Literary Journal. He is the author of the chapbook Boys (Duck Lake Books) and Waxing the Dents, a full-length collection from Brick Road Poetry Press. Visit him at Danieledwardmoore.com.
