by Uche Ogbuji
From Fall 2016
Play on flute of the twin voices,
The shy, two-toned harmonizer,
Throaty foundation,
A floor to extend under any
Wandering trajectory
Of the song's feet.
Garrulous double,
Taiwo of tall echo
With a full hand's collection
Of tones,
Translator for the sacred bush of ghosts.
Even in this land where the
Plants have been
Press into metamorphic
Grains of sand.
Taken together a compass
With the artists emblem at the angle
A mason with a perfect
Standing
Corner
At
The heels.
But a less logical angle
At the hand hold below
The ambiguous mouthpiece:
Raw earth stirred with water requires room
For width of a mammal's pulse.
Adobe.
Jideobi.
Adobe.
Jideobi.
Two branches carrying in their xylem
The flow from twin tributaries,
Imo Mmiri and Colorado.
The spaceship lights have dot-dashed the message from frogland,
Throaty foundation
Of water.
The Bonny Bight over the ocean.
The Bonny Bight over the sea.
Oh bring back Biafara to me.
And from doldrum Atlantis the dual in the message:
Two-toned flute, garrulous, speaking
For untold, mute ghosts.
They gather to gawk at this
Roomful of travelers
Before plucking
My ear's nerve
With recognition,
Then
Right as I turn
The Doppler shapes dipper,
Attenuating
Into its lovely pairs.
Note: Imo mmiri—Great river of the author's home state. Mmiri is Igbo for water.