Sentinel Poetry (Online) #39

The International Journal of Poetry & Graphics

February 2006. ISSN 1479-425X. Editor: Amatoritsero Ede

 

E.E. Sule

 

these mornings

 

there are mornings

evening-mornings, midday-mornings:

you blink from

wild, aeroplaned sleep

and a government

whirls around with reforms

bleaching the very walls of your ulcer

 

there are mornings

barren of day’s wisdom

lunatic on the crest

of open-ended vision

and radio, always radio

blares a harsh government

into you morning eardrums

with plenty of reform truths

 

yet there are mornings

clever, clever mornings

that ambush your sleep

with brilliant wonders of reforms

and you’re gasping beside yourself

clever, clever mornings

dropping therapeutic logarithm

to scratch your itching dream

to pour you into mainstream reforms

 

these mornings

always bring you a government

whose strides are

in deep romance with mystery

whose amens

hold you to impotent heavens.

 

 

 

didn’t you, B?

 

I told you

didn’t I

I’m still the protagonist of your dream

with wild fists for knockout blows

 

I only own the fetish mind

for worshipping the gods in your eyes

 

ha! I can orbit your palm with sizzling steps

proud masquerade in

the courtyard of your palm

 

            you knew it

            didn’t you

 

the wild lion in my heart

hovers around your eternal smile

a guard in world of cruel laughters

 

my fangs are hidden in the chest of air

for as you frolic in rhymes of everyday lines

cruel teeth lurk in dark corners of flesh

 

furious venom is housed in my stare

those shameless naked tongues

that lay you alter of lies

will drug their ways into my stare, unspared

 

I’m still the protagonist of your dream

 

 

 

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E E Sule

 

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