The Power Strip
The power strip—
on multiple fronts
lights a space to life.
With the electricity it gives—
goods charge, screens glow;
rooms, silent
traverse into worlds energized.
The power strip—
when all sockets, no plugs
is inwardly shocked.
The electricity it gives—
with nowhere to flow,
is a burst of energy hidden within—
locked.
The unpowered strip—
days unplugged,
nothing to boost,
laments in dark of nights it lit—
not savoring the self-surge,
it blows a fuse—
weeping for use.
About the Author: Born and raised in Los Angeles, Michael Roque discovered his love for poetry and prose amid friends on the bleachers of Pasadena City College. Now he currently lives in the Middle East and is being inspired by the world around him. His poems have been published by literary magazines like Ink Pantry Publishing, WordCity Literary Journal, Hot Pot Magazine and others.
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