Leave Those Hays Poem by Ginikachi Uzoma

Leave Those Hays



Each time I looked back
I saw nothing,
But the grasses kept ruffling behind me
Till it became a distant sound
And echoed back on treetops
To the waking of ancient bones
And to the gathering of foreign winds
That wound around me
In that crazy order of warring tornadoes
Sniffing for fortunes to devour
Or for havocs to augment;
Then the bones started cat-walking,
Smiling at me through their empty sockets
With that temerity that befits friendliness,
Their broomstick-like fingers
Gradually increased their twitches
As they spread their uncanny arms for a fatal
embrace;
What more was left?
But to forge my way
Against the unbecoming wind
Onto the field that gave me sight of that grove;
Then night answered another’s call
And visited me with his descending darkness—
A weighty cloak whose hem I could not lift—
Granting me such companies
That befit a deranged folk:
Owls hooting madrigals,
Nightingales singing elegies,
And crickets chirping caveats;
Then a whisper in my ear,
Goose pimples on my skin,
And tcham! They caught me
Those hands I had feared, or so I thought
And hurled me across those paths—
Against the all—
Back to my little-walled room
Where I rose on my little-spaced bed
Perspiring…

Wednesday, April 2, 2014
Topic(s) of this poem: fantasy
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