R.B. Simpson

Is this a general outage or merely confined to bipolar regions? Suddenly it is midnight at midday.                                                          The meter registers zero and there is no electrochemical technician listed in the Yellow Pages.

You’ve dropped off the grid.

The lift is stuck between floors and the cables are frayed.                 The alarm bell doesn’t work but it’s ringing in your head.

You may be going up or down, either way you’re on your own.        The spark flickers and fades, no one can see you in the dark             and even you don’t know where or who you are.

Manic depressive power surges wreck the system: the sufferer       was born without the contacts to conduct current meaning.

What is this so-called life force then?                                           Chemistry or biology, electricity or eccentricity, science or spirit, mind or matter?

Because even when you long for a complete shut-down,                 even when the mind has lost every last connection to                       the power source, somehow the back-up generator kicks in            and the heart goes on.

---

Richard Simpson is a freelance writer and journalist, and his poems have appeared in SQ and imPrint magazines. He lives in Johannesburg, South Africa.