Onyedikachi Chinedu
Onyedikachi Chinedu is a Nigerian poet whose poems are published and forthcoming in the Academy of American Poets Poem-a-Day, Guesthouse Lit, Cortland Review, Banyan Review, etc.
The Tenor
Because through the lace,I see neglected seeds in a salt bath on a sill.I’ve seen it there before,greening for weeks.
Though the lady’s warnings strike feet like glass,they tease the White Hairfor the youth she no longer has.Preferring the dew of daybreaks glistening the grasses by the road,shall I give up these little white rooms for life in discordant cities?As the fork hits the plate,the room wakes up.
Uche, who isn't here, will talkabout the Hunter and why it posesamong other constellations.I shan’t listen, I promise.Why prod despite the urge?There’s a herd of goats bleating in a pasture,and a hawk caught in a trap.
Though the lady’s warnings strike feet like glass,they tease the White Hairfor the youth she no longer has.Preferring the dew of daybreaks glistening the grasses by the road,shall I give up these little white rooms for life in discordant cities?As the fork hits the plate,the room wakes up.
Uche, who isn't here, will talkabout the Hunter and why it posesamong other constellations.I shan’t listen, I promise.Why prod despite the urge?There’s a herd of goats bleating in a pasture,and a hawk caught in a trap.
Front-End Stations
With the cicadas on trees,the teachers movedhard against cobblestones.
Quickly the boys appeared in sixes—the one stride to steer.The building burnedaway its only structure for hours.
It appalled them, in a way,that the boys would graffitithe scarred walls.
The excavated potenciesin abstraction. The wildnessrequired, intensively,for the still craziness of things.
They glanced at the other,wondering if reflections telltheir narcissism of spoils.
Quickly the boys appeared in sixes—the one stride to steer.The building burnedaway its only structure for hours.
It appalled them, in a way,that the boys would graffitithe scarred walls.
The excavated potenciesin abstraction. The wildnessrequired, intensively,for the still craziness of things.
They glanced at the other,wondering if reflections telltheir narcissism of spoils.
Two Poems
I
Near the balustrade, the boyssat close to a clay pot.On the river, the sun's juice on it.Maybe the clinking bottlespreceded by cheers of proudsentences had hiked the sensesto get a few stuff.A waiter held a tray: two Cokesand doughnuts. They voted in favorof these things,and discussed the weatherto clog the noise.The perfect hand would know the cuisines.Dew rinsed the grass.Hence, I heard her laugh moreraucously than death.
II
The tree imagined the whooshas a soft force mowing through the branches.The chainsaw ignited by a manwearing a blue overall; the serrated blade in a treewas the noise against the quiet, broken grove.None of the board members knewthe protestants would emergeafter many restrictions.What heard over the hum and hum were the shouts of the placards,abuzz with the excitement of being heard.
II
The tree imagined the whooshas a soft force mowing through the branches.The chainsaw ignited by a manwearing a blue overall; the serrated blade in a treewas the noise against the quiet, broken grove.None of the board members knewthe protestants would emergeafter many restrictions.What heard over the hum and hum were the shouts of the placards,abuzz with the excitement of being heard.
Preserve Parts
Haven't written to you more in years,are the snapshots scarred truths?
In the summer of a year, Frida,out of that inextricable mastery,
planted red lips on a scrap of paperwith it an imperative sentence.
How Nickolas, the recipient, kissedthe cherry stain on his nape—
smiling ear-to-ear as if a lottery had been won.That feeling superseded what love?
To preserve parts for the future—for others to glean from.
In the summer of a year, Frida,out of that inextricable mastery,
planted red lips on a scrap of paperwith it an imperative sentence.
How Nickolas, the recipient, kissedthe cherry stain on his nape—
smiling ear-to-ear as if a lottery had been won.That feeling superseded what love?
To preserve parts for the future—for others to glean from.
