Poet-Today ~ Ekweremadu Uchenna ~ The Arts-Muse Fair

Pic: Aminu S Muhammad

GENESIS

in the beginning there was music of

moaning and of a creaking bed

his lips quivered not with fever

but with minty words

her lids slid shut not in sleep

but in daydream

there was light from the mercury-vapoured lamp coating

the sparsely furnished room in

a blue film

                

in the beginning I was there on

that creation night crouching at the

edge of the room

aghast

as I watched the duo spin the potter’s

wheel mixing water and clay

moulding me into being

LIVING ON AS DUST

because you loved to sprawl

and roll on lawns 

to kiss the grasses’ fresh lips

and stroke their dewy limbs

I demurred when they made to box

you and to dump you six feet under the ground

because

I recalled the night we kissed by the campfire

just before you marched out to war

how your eyes glowed with the live coals

as though you desired a swim

in a lake of fire

till your cells fluoresced

no wonder

at the crematory 

just before you became an

urn of fine dust

I caught you smiling all through the process

like a lamb being offered to God

today

while your mates bid you farewell

with twenty-one toasts

and the grasses happily waltz

to the bugle’s sad moans

I spray you all over the back lawn

where you’ll forever be warmed by the sun

LONG WALK TO BABEL

I

And in the beginning

we all snored in the dark

until Light

tore through the stained glass

illuminating our minds

in varying colours

and revealing the pathways

of stone and of bronze and of iron

                                        

it burned up the veil wrapping our minds

and separated us from ‘lower lives’

till we not only cared about antelopes to

capture and fruits to gather

but also cattle to keep

and crops to nurture

to some minds it gave the power

to read the lips of leaves

of roots

of barks

to tell those that heal from those that harm

some minds it armed with rain-making guns

to take aim at ripe clouds

and riddle them with a million rounds

whenever the sun made to scorch the world

some throats it fine-tuned

until their sounds could

spur weaklings to dare death

and melt iron hearts to tears

some fingers it cursed with the itch

to sculpt and to weave

                            

II

as we grew in geometric progression

space and food became the first casualties

a game for the fittest soon turned anarchic

dipping the land in lechery and in blood

until the dark dust grew to a mushroom cloud

and shut out Light

the ensuant seism cracked heaven’s dam

which was already weakened by long disregard

and soon its floodgates yawned open

drowning the world in a deluge

III

The last surviving household

soon multiplied in a hundred fold

like a genetically modified seed

strewn on a virgin field

because the flood didn’t wash off the old curse

which Light had placed on us from the start

insatiateness and curiosity clung on

like tapeworms to our hearts

down eastward a scout found a field

where rocks gushed with milk and malt

where bees were too honey-laden to buzz

where sand grains could grow into hills

IV

The lure of fame and glory

and the glint of immortality

and the dread of dispersion

drove us sunward

the hope of diving in the pool of Light

until our very cells fluoresce

fueled our courage

to conquer the fear of heights

and pile brick upon brick

upon brick

even though the sun scorched our backs

till they gleamed like burnished brass

even though we perspired drops of blood

panting like famished hunting dogs

we strengthened each other with smiles

as we piled brick upon brick

upon brick

until the blights came and warped our minds

throwing us into hysteria

and glossolalia

in a flick

our lofty dream vapourised

forcing us to disperse and explore new fields

in little groups of like-minds 

some said the plague was airborne

but most people blamed it on Light

which had panicked at our mutual bond

and our dare to strive for a higher stratum

AUNTY TALATU

(For Teresa Oyibo Ameh)

you who plant baskets of books

on virgin and fallow minds

virgin and fallow minds forsaken

by Family and State and

swarmed by thorns and weeds

what barn can hold

these loaves of bread

you’ve cast on many waters

when they float back to your shores tomorrow

swollen a hundred times over

you who rain shots of cold

water down parched throats

parched throats of feeble folk

plodding along life’s rocky path

what muzzle can muffle your censer

which steadily sends scents to heaven and

commends you to the throne of grace

*****

Ekweremadu Uchenna writes from Kaduna, Nigeria. He has been long listed and shortlisted for a number of prizes including Erbacce Poetry Prize and RL Poetry Award. Some of his works have appeared in Transition, Jalada, Grub Street, Come Review, Imitation Fruit Journal, Saraba, Parousia and elsewhere.