With a Swoop
By Uche Nduka
It wouldn't kill me
to find new frequencies
in a temper tantrum.
Tatamis and memory,
magnetized selves
becoming heavy.
Of what is a scream composed?
You may want to know.
You may want to know why.
It is to these arabesques
that the birdsong
replies.
Copula, disappear.
Anguish, multifoliate.
I am a brother to a wandering prayer.
Orb in ruined loop
fluting for a lost future.
I grab what is left of pistons
bouncing across a street.
The barricade is foolproof.
Copyright Credit: Uche Nduka, "With a Swoop." Copyright © 2017 Uche Nduka. Used by permission of the author for PoetryNow, a partnership between the Poetry Foundation and the WFMT Radio Network.
Source: PoetryNow (2017)