A river collects debris and silt along its way
the leavings, limbs, the trash-- all of it
trinkets of its travels
deposits delta of another day

It does not choose its wanderings, its depth--  
nor decides the sculpture of its bed
whose contours lend it
force and transitory power--

Its learning journey
ceaseless....

Change is in its element

A good storm will force its rise
into someone you do not recognize
and maybe wish you never met

(after Edward Hopper’s Cape Cod Evening)

The light is everything;
it makes a godly sound

spilling through
the locust grove,

washing over
uncut grass,

negating
shadows,

baptizing husband
and wife in oblivion.

Melancholy blinks
like the black eye
of a whippoorwill.

Who catches the
notes of its song?

Only the dog.

Dusk, patient
as a chrysalis.

They can’t hear
the transmutation
yet, but they will.

The snow has a hand in it
as it gently covers all
the russet cheek of fall
With its myriad of hands

Snow opens up a place
among the covering leaves
Rests its palm
along the warmth of earth
sinks its fingers into heaves
and waits a moment

Winter is an expert
at November's need for lenient fondlings  
He remembers
edging for surrender
of a dying spring
His touches linger
as the earth quails at the gate
with shivering cries
she tries
to pull away

Cold desire overwhelms her
Cold insists
His swelling frosted fingers
force into the earth
in every way of water--
freezing crystals can desire
They imagine how to dilate
crevasse
to winter max

She tries not to--  
Heaves up her hills to block his way
He stops her  
with his white-fist wind
his frozen grip  
Depths so patiently insist
Such weight smothers all
With drifting swirling tongue
He fills her once-warm mouth
Settles into empty nest of limbs
and lets the wind drive him
ever deeper

into the need of winter
love

When I was 7 years old
I lost my voice
"They won't believe you"
Ripped the vocal chords
From my throat
And buried them beside
My innocence
Years I spent
Blowing smoke signals
Drawing maps in my veins
Begging for help silently
Inwardly screaming
Through a sutured mouth
Teeth coated in paint thinner
When I was 19
I found my voice
I dug those vocal chords
Out of the ground
Breaking fingernails around a pen
Writing statements
Filing into court
Spilling truths out of a too full glass
Creating a beautiful mess
I could walk away from
"I believe you"
Rang through my ears
Into eternity
And tucked me in at night
Safely in a home he didn't live in
"I believe you"
Rang like church bells
Announcing my salvation
My safety, my safekeeping
"I believe you"
Rang like police sirens
Promising to lock the pain away
To protect and serve me always
I believe you. I believe you. I believe you.

Day of bliss,
the day of
awakening,
ascending of
the full moon,
the stars glitters,
the sun in majestic
brightness shines
forth and I shine,
the new dawn
emerged.
Engulfed my soul,
with beauty divine.
Captivates my heart
with love enough.
The afflatus upon me,
intrigued my soul,
and at this moment
here and now,
there is no space,
there is no time,
everything is just is,
the i in me
is lost and,
I am.
Heaven in my heart
and my soul rejoiced.
So thrilled for
peace has come.
Blissful in a
magnificent manner.
and passionately
exquisite in an
uncanny way.
Joy overtakes,
my being
transmogrified.
Blissfully serene,
I'm immensely
blessed.
Chosen among the
seekers I now bloom.
My heart resonates
and I'm so grateful.
©®2018,Emeka Mokeme. All Rights Reserved.

Evening docks
like a desolate ship,
indigo and monolithic,

its umbral sails
swelling above
the distant hips of
a titanic continent.

Sleep tastes like a mossy anchor;
it lurches, shifts, and slips into gear—
the sound of stars grinding on stars.

I sail across an ocean of teeth.

I acquiesce. I drown

in the velvet
whirlpool of
your absence.