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.