“I try not to dwell in small places after a hunt”

I try not to dwell in small places after a hunt, Or for long anywhere these days; any moment, any space if reckless, permits your scent’s return Like a cat expecting dinner after a long adventure, Coolly curled at the door, the ledge, scratching sometimes As if it knows I’ve been fishing— but I will…

“There’s nowhere he can go without”

There is nowhere he can go without Someone asking where he came from Two smiles later with a stranger He finds himself thinking Pleeeeease don’t ask To let them know is to say a word That takes him back to his childhood room The smell of his mother’s kitchen To hear them say “Aah, Nigeria…”…

Note To My Unborn Descendants

PUBLISHED IN ISSUE MAGAZINE, OCTOBER 2012 The stillnesses of my ancestors are in my blood: The sway of their humble trees their long walks on dirt roads sewing needles & fishing rods. One day, I too will be in your blood My concrete, my playlists, the air and disaster health of my whorehouse heart. It heaves…

How To Be The Web

There was a song you used to sing; but it hums only for itself now. Disconnect an old habit into drawers tie it neatly in cord. If dust gets hungry, it can swarm there. Although your days tumble deep into the new quiet be up to something anyway. The insomnia can’t stop the seduction. In fact,…

Spine: a romantic poem about back pain

SPINE perhaps if I aligned mine just right, I could love you better. Your fingertips would appreciate a line of stars crackling under skin. I could slip by these storms like a gymnast fish, swiftly past offers of science or circus lights. These bones should only fit against yours in the dark. and baby, you…