by Ogana David Okpah
It was a snake, a very thin line
Without a head, without a tail.
Cut off, off guard. I thought it was
Your menstruate, red as blood.
Since last did you missed it.
It would have been a rooster
See the time it crow. Light coming
Up, then down. I am afraid of the
Height had sunk, nightly arboreal?
You see what is holding on is this:
You have a point to prove but
You can’t make movement. Each
Step you take brings you to the coming
You have stayed here for long.
Is there not a thing coming out
Of the light, but a brightness?
What about it’s light headed flames
Red, blue, pale or a blood moon orange?
The light is beauty like a living peacock isn’t it?
ELEGY FOR HANNAH
If you can die, everything can die,
Everything living and non living. Pure
Mortal soul. Your dead news was a muse
For silence. Even the thin air that ticks
The skin, stops at your sudden dread.
I am over your fence. As you passed on.
Close the earth, the light is off.
AN IMAGINARY LIFE
After light it was dark
And a careful death opens.
Late & lastly, the light sneaks
In towards two evenings wrapped
In a green leaf pierced by two grasshoppers
Each. They were closed at noon, galactically
Falling from the hip of bones.
I would have considered your barricade.
The afternoon, after their ascension,
The infernal torment held hallway towards
The scullery door. Night creases upbeat as
The rocket. Not a human voice heard.
Were there ever light upon the world
Over the lands nor upon the seas?
Where is the bird that fills to my breast
Darkness? In my squalor Windsor, the night
Drops like a swallow bright with resting
Grief from flight.