TIDEWASH……Memories
fold-over-fold free-furrow
mingling old tunes with new.
Tidewash…..Ride me
memories, astride on firm
saddle, wreathed with white
lillies & roses of blood…..
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Sing to the rustic flute:
Sing a new note…
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Where are the Maytime flowers,
where the roses? What will the
Watermaid bring at sundown,
a garland? A handful of tears?
Sing to the rustic flute:
Sing a new note…
Â
Comes Dawn
gasping thro worn lungs,
Day breathes,
panting like torn horse –
Â
We follow the wind to the fields
Bruising grass leafblade and corn…
Â
Sundown: I draw in my egg head.
Night falls
smearing sore bruises with Sloan’s
boring new holes in old sheets –
Â
We hear them, the talkative pines,
And nightbirds and woodnymphs afar off …
Â
Shall I answer their call,
creep on my underself
out of my snug hole, out of my shell
to the rocks and the fringe for cleansing?
Shall I offer to Idoto
my sandhouse and bones,
then write no more snow-patch?
Â
Sing to the rustic flute.
Sing a new note.
Retrieved from Archive of Christopher Okigbo poems
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