Sentinel Poetry #49     December 2006    ISSN 1479-425X


Guest Editor: Nnorom Azuonye

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Uche Nduka


From Crocus to Trench


a picket fence                             

dares you to vault it.


its roughage stays

for its own sake.


such is the story

a sprig has to tell.


to precious turmoil.

from crocus to trench.


a grope a frisk a cuddle.

from a numbing to a rage.


do you hear

the blare of your country?



Into Allegro


i will go with you

into love's engine room.


let them hoot.

let them howl.


from bliss into bliss

we will go.


into allegro.

into adagio.


succulent melange.


i will drink with you

from the cup of remembrance.



Solitude Is My Food


solitude is my food

there is little left

of expedient occasions

to trawl around

my solitude is yours as well

and the potted noon

thorough like the voice

consuming all our anchorages





your white fingers

cupping my brown scrotum


touching, being touched

seeing, being seen

tasting, being tasted


till we blazed

in outings,

pollen and stamen,


blazed in what we gained.

in keenings

and preludes-

what we ennobled.



Like The Prayers


like the prayers i poured

between your labial lips


recesses in scarlet

the stickiness of you


speculum, wombwall

the boundlessness of you


like the prayers i spun

around your suite


your jade ring,

the rendezvous of seedpods and knees


the rip the freeze





even so why mimic freshets

and not glee at white heat


at the tipsiness of ellipsis


turning your gaze

into the lamp in a peach


terraces in the orangerie

branchings held upward


why mimic those

who traffic in the infernal


who begin where

the sacred bestiary is torn apart


and lemon groves left, unbrowsed.



In The Context


a shadowed portico.


in the context

of a glass ashtray.


a conjurer's levitation.


in the context

of red cherries.


an acidic plinth.


in the context

of a ramshackle home.




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