The sun’s gone to hell.
Me to my lover’s.
There to drown my soul
In the dark waters of deep desire.
Under this window, Ekulu flows by
Meanders miles hence into the Niger
Thrashing with desire in the
Thick forests of the mangrove region
Until it empties itself in the insatiable sea.
Beyond, a man’s voice croaky as a frog’s
Curses the moon, lays on its baldness
The giant frustrations of his drunken life.
Two children emerge from a gaminghouse
Sharing money filched from men
Wistfully betting their lives
In exchange for a trip in the wilderness.
I have peeped into my soul –
For clarity, with one eye
Like through the small neck of a gallon
Overflowing with emptiness and silence –
And I saw great darkness
And I shuddered: The horror. The horror.
Mr. Kurtz – he dead!
Shut the window, dear.
Leave it outside – this life.
Like an umbrella dripping wet
Let it stay outside until dry.
I have chosen this death.
I have watched my life wilt
From the endless hug of metal and plastic.
At least I can look forward to this –
This drowning of tears and laughter
This drowning in wind.
I have chosen this death –
This scything of my proboscis.
Come, sit by me.
In the straight-jacket of your thighs
Cast my soul in plaster of paris.
Nothing matters.
Mr. Kurtz – he dead!
Italicised lines from Joseph Conrad’s Heart of Darkness.
From my forthcoming collection: Four Serenades: Water, Earth,
Wind and Fire.
Top |
