At The Bank... Poem by Simpa Omoluabi

Riverbank where is your vault,
Through the mazes, your sepulchral fruit?
I see hunters and knights seeking aim…

No man in mortal daylight
Goes without a shadow,
So no river without a bank.

Rivermaid at the bank
You yeast the dough beneath my counter.

Mermaid of man, if your revelation
Could make me lose sense of vision
May sleep veil these eyes
Before they see the island of your mystery.

Canary in a snare of banking sparrows,
A heart yielding florets of benighted darts,
Pointers of a goddamned stint at banking.

Patience that breeds the content of thunder
Restrain me, your horse, to the relieving end,
Not to break lose in lightning
And remember me of my being
Out of the abyss out of timelessness before now…

Muse of potency
Grains of life I have carried
Into your strong-room,
I have come into your cellar,
Give me the-vine song
That I may be drunk with a tongue notifying the vassalage.

O bank I have known your vault,
An epicenter of unwonted game.

Copyright © 2014 At The Bank by Simpa Omoluabi