Art and poetry on page and stage



Uche Nduka


a dotted distance
he tugs at a pink wax
chases tomorrow's sequins
i stride after him
telling the mud how to slide
he is the one licking salt off a glass
i let them go–
my drawlish lines and crumpled suit
i pack a valise and run
he turns the key in a lock
because it is the water in which marble despairs
i drag the valise
to a horse embracing vine-shoots
he awakens to the voice
of a boatman mocking a weathercock
hereabouts baroque is destiny
a swallow's wing on white waterlily
i point to a plateau lying in wait
he tugs at the pink wax
chases the splendor of stealth
sod the classics
and forced enjambment
let us recite
what may or may not be praise
when darkness churns into eelgrass
this is not a screen test
who will keep our fever from rising


& the broken taillights
of pianos that have
become the rain
say it's time to walk
on our heads again