Contributor Series 10: Silken Rags
Carnival of the moon
By Jekwu Anyaegbuna
Night, right after the menopause of light,
the pubescent moon strewed sparks of fireworks,
sparkles of festivity pouring over us.
Our heads swinging, our hearts bobbling.
Colours caught razzmatazz, called the ears of pageantry
and we became a river gallivanting along the streets,
spasms of glamour infusing our stomachs with glitz
Our heads swinging, our hearts bobbling.
And in this trimester of happiness,
the moon became matured enough to sing, to disperse
her golden laughter, wrapped in the orange bulb of melody.
Our heads swinging, our hearts bobbling.
We broke into the celibacy of tranquility,
pulling out the eunuchs of crestfallenness, encroaching
on their gloominess with our balloons of rhapsody.
Our heads swinging, our hearts bobbling.
Then the voice of the moon descended on us,
enticing us with the procession of jingles of hilarity,
our legs scissoring through the dancing streets.
Our heads swinging, our hearts bobbling.
Overjoyed, the moon disintegrated into sparkling stars.
The witty fingers of the night’s darkness solved our mathematics of shyness.
We swayed and bobbled like hot water in a boiling kettle.
Our heads swinging, our hearts bobbling.
Jekwu Anyaegbuna’s most recent poem to appear here was Caution (October 2011).
