Four Poems
by Anthony Ikeh
Love As Annihilation
After Ethel Cain’s Nettles
For Ifeoluwa
somewhere in this poem we
learn shapeshifting to hide from
our bodies. I am holding your marigold
skin in the sole of my feet, through
far wrung wrists, our arms link to
keep us together
in spring, you said your hands were made for my
heart
honey, i have held
kinder things
i have held a petal up in the light
& stripped it of all its glory just
to gaze at my reflection
love tangents at our elbows, my head at 45°
dreams nightmares where clawing at my neck
is nubile
i am a collage of every war my
mind has waged in the name of
myself,
I am waiting for you
who's spent too long in
the bathroom
I don't want to wake up
on my own.
For Ifeoluwa
(After Olumide Manuel’s Hallelujah, Disambiguation)
euphoria. a hallelujah persists in the
temple of your mouth, & i know its tale &
its consequence. when our teeth crash in
accidental physics, my head is something short
of wildfire but lets play it safe & call it an
ember in need of fanning, an ignition
held back by things unsaid, untethered by
camaraderie of splendorous histories.
i'm awe of your aura, of the way the cosmos
exists in spite of you, of how you hold a raging flame
daring it to splinter a wound
this hallelujah is rendered with ardor, with safety,
without fear of abrasion. so, here, a butcher's knife,
cleave, eat, do as you wish. only a sacrifice paid with
blood & skin is acceptable before this altar. everything
in me echoes a cacophony: ribcage, a harp in David's hands
where God is damned to a promise between heaven & earth.
we're going round & round, encircling our origins & all our
bodies necessitate. i have made a diety out of you & my babylon
will sing on & on.
Mermaid Tales
By September // the shore receeds farther than // we've ever seen it Against our parents’ warnings // we're twelve and down by the pier // the docks are the only thing we know // the fishermen // & how they paddle their way through // the sea in search of fish // reluctant to give in to // captivity & death // I snuck a pickle for you on // the day we almost drowned // As for survivor's guilt we // spun secret about mermaids being friendly to children // but that was a long while ago We're neither kids // & the pier — an anonymous object in our minds now an inconspicuous project // & we're certainly smarter about mermaids.
Why did this happen
the scenic drive through my web browser
to my
favourite pornography site
thumb gliding with
evanescent glow
to the brown of my face when
a roadsign asks
for proof of my blood
and
bone are you human
with a catalogue of
unmistakable pictures to pick
rear corner a car leading
into the white of
the forest
where your feet ankle deep
in the
snow your hand
clutching the gun the index still fingering
the trigger on
the almost alive deer —
its eyes reflecting your face
before it becomes a black hole
i could tell I'd be licking blood
off the barrel in the future
you joked once about surviving
the family portrait
a funny way to say orphan
yet everytime you
spoke about your father
your chest mimicked a staccato
then one night —
midway through catcher in the rye
you said you want to be many
things I asked what
you said something close to Jesus
when they called
me from the school to come
identify your body
chest catching bullet instead
of your teeth
see how your ribcage collapsed
on itself
i emptied the cartridge two weeks
before you died just in case
you had any ideas
like your father who you
said had an easy pass
why did this happen
i don't know either
i don't know why anything
happens
my crotch limp against my shorts
by the time my screen beeps
to accept that I'm 18+
i don't want your cookies either
BIO: Anthony Ikeh is a Nigerian writer & self-acclaimed cinephile. His work are on or forthcoming on Brittle Paper, Kalahari Review, The Shallow Tales Review, Yugen Quest Review, Metaworker Literary, Eunoia Review, The B'K Magazine, African Writer Magazine, The Mixtape Review & elsewhere. He tweets @lanalovesbooks0