Crystal Stewart
DISCO LIVES
Our Disco hearts beat
in time with the bass
arms outstretched
we reach to embrace
something vital, tribal
In a vacuum of
spinning lights and dry ice
the DJ twists
the frayed ends
of each tune
into one seamless
silken thread -
like strobe lit marionettes
our laser cut limbs
cast vivid shapes
in this hallowed space.
When the world goes tits up
Disco burrows underground
demolition won’t raze it
curfews won’t curb it
dance floors flourish
in car parks and fields
in basements, rented apartments
Disco is how the Ancients
communed with their Gods
their moves daubed
on temple walls.
Disco stokes those same shadows
in the sweaty clubs
it’s the indelible stamp
on the back of our hands.
Sugared pills melt
on damp tongues
Neon shots queue
and pints get sunk.
Disco is bottled fizz,
shook up with each riff
uncorked with each chorus
when we all let rip.
We are the poster kids
of Disco’s future
lycra clad and sure footed
as we bounce buoyantly
through elation heartbreak epiphany
Our demons cast
as divine entities
in the mirrored shards.
This one night,
they don’t get to bite us.
Our Disco hearts beat
in time with the bass
arms outstretched
we reach to embrace
something vital, tribal
In a vacuum of
spinning lights and dry ice
the DJ twists
the frayed ends
of each tune
into one seamless
silken thread -
like strobe lit marionettes
our laser cut limbs
cast vivid shapes
in this hallowed space.
When the world goes tits up
Disco burrows underground
demolition won’t raze it
curfews won’t curb it
dance floors flourish
in car parks and fields
in basements, rented apartments
Disco is how the Ancients
communed with their Gods
their moves daubed
on temple walls.
Disco stokes those same shadows
in the sweaty clubs
it’s the indelible stamp
on the back of our hands.
Sugared pills melt
on damp tongues
Neon shots queue
and pints get sunk.
Disco is bottled fizz,
shook up with each riff
uncorked with each chorus
when we all let rip.
We are the poster kids
of Disco’s future
lycra clad and sure footed
as we bounce buoyantly
through elation heartbreak epiphany
Our demons cast
as divine entities
in the mirrored shards.
This one night,
they don’t get to bite us.
Crystal Stewart is a playwright living in the North of England. The pandemic has led her back to her first loves, poetry and prose. Her work has been published by Pure Slush, In Parentheses and visualverse.org. She has recently been involved in a groundbreaking theatre project called HOYO, combining puppetry, virtual reality and 3D touch. She also has an unhealthy addiction to stationery. You can find her on Twitter as crys_stew