Myth

 
We are cat (h)air   & sky
            every colour here
                 is
lemon & grass & street
                      on a girl’s thigh
 
there’s a way we carry god
       with scarf
& firewood
      we enter glass
       we become receptacles
 
carrying stories
   in our wounds
till we   all go to hell
       yes, wearing organs
 
& fitting   into tiny diamonds
     on the devil’s back
              we know the halfness
                       our body becomes
 
         with water
             &    
fire & tiny little sexes
         tightening
 
    like zero point five
        millimeter copper
we know these things
    we
 
   know how we fold tongue
           to hair or
grey skin them
        so they shine angels
 
 

Photograph

 
father always
died & his skin
shone jazz with
 
mother’s clothes
knitting his body
into her nutmeg
 
breath i tuck
my hair into
psalm ninety
 
one listening to
my father’s
mirror scattering
 
on her chest
like some urban
egg breaking
 
into almond skin
i am in
my room calculating
 
how much time
he’d swell
today inside her
 
purple face
or burst in this
body full
 
of oranges
&
caffeine
 
 
 
About the Poet

Victor Ugwu writes from Minna, Nigeria. He is a member of the Hill-top art foundation under which he published his first poetry chapbook “Rhythms”. He’s a contributing poet to the Praxis magazine, ANA review, Kalahari review, Eureka street and elsewhere.