Murder Three, Summer 2016

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Eat Me Alice

                                 

Tuber turned-on touchery implicates my
Fingertips despite that gibraltar flesh winks
Nothing warm my way. Ouais! J'accuse this prize yam,
Trade of New Guinea.

Saffron, did my lookery summon you, send
Forward toca-cabeceo towards your table—
Dance, my sweet? A lechery pays for your thoughts,
Dearest paella.

Devonshire, what fuckery! Slather me
Sweetly clotted cream—undermine my soaked-stiff
Sponging. Make me scone in solution. Ring my
Belfry for tea-time.

Tears at bar last-call, undermined for morning's
Seconds, I'll have, nevertheless, my cream brunch.
Whose number did I scratch into my daybook,
Matchmaker hunger?

Suited Pair

          
Black magic woman
With holy ghost hair
You paint me a devil—
We make quite a pair.

Your presence grows tendrils
And pulls me flush in;
Our company contrast—
Collage of our skin.

Queen of the clover,
No pearl if I'm swine;
What midnight our suit
Against white-washed divine.

Queen of the spade tip—
Sexton surprise—
My skull runs wet with
The white of your eyes.

Your diamond red nipples,
Heart fold of your cunt;
My tongue is the whetstone,
My weapon strikes blunt.

The moment you mount me
All mystery swells;
Trump takes the pot
To your ring at my bells.

Our savage-haired offspring
Is voodoo tarot,
The wind to our gypsy—
She comes and we go.

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The artist's space.

Uche Ogbuji

Crow Hollow Books

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Crow Hollow 19

About the poems: I work in computers, but I almost always write poems at first on pencil and paper. I usually have five or six notebooks going at a time, scattered all over the house, and yet half my drafts end up on a flyer, a bill or some other random scrap. I tend to write linearly from the beginning to the end and trust in my obsessive use of form to slant the telling, though the form can take up to a dozen lines before I've any real idea of it. Once I have a handwritten draft I type it into my laptop and from that point it's in a fairly technical organization process. In other words my poems usually shift from hunter-gatherer analog to search-engine-age digital before anyone else catches sight of them.

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