Think of how many consider it sin to sing.
Think of Robert Johnson, of Elvis’ hips,
the Beatles’ mop tops, Mick Jagger’s bulging lips,
Tina Turner, who gave sparkle to everything.
Little wonder, then, that the Puritan sting
has crept into the circuits of computer chips.
Let the people own their rhythms, and authority slips
from shining hilltop to hell——how thin the string
the righteous cling to, but watch how they sway
in time to an ancient, familiar beat
when foundations crumble, as they often do.
They haven’t the strength to climb back to their seat
at the right hand of God. They don’t want to, anyway.
This little song is so catchy——one, two——one, two.
Jo Angela Edwins has published poems in over 100 journals and anthologies, recently or forthcoming in Allium, Monterey Poetry Review, Real South/West, and Southern Voices: The Power of Place. She is the author of the collection A Dangerous Heaven (Gnashing Teeth, 2023), Bitten (dancing girl, 2025), and Play (Finishing Line, 2016). She is a Pushcart Prize, Forward Prize, Best of the Net, and Bettering American Poetry nominee and has received awards from Winning Writers, Poetry Super Highway, SC Academy of Authors, and the Jasper Project. She lives in Florence, SC, where she serves as the poet laureate of the Pee Dee region of the state and teaches literature, composition, and creative writing at Francis Marion University. One piece she often teaches in her literature classes is her favorite revenge story, Susan Glaspell’s short play Trifles.
