Tantra Poem by Nkwachukwu Ogbuagu

Night came slowly on board Mercury Retrograde flights.
Bantered by a battering winter, it should have occurred on the breath
of dusk, when the deer family hit the belly of the Autobahn less...

It was a creamy evening.
Oneiric, full of brume, and longingly esoteric,
it reeked of a recrudescence of yolk patterns to an early birth,
when a shattered eggshell symbolises the harmony of youth -body and Seele.
But it all caved in with the solemnity of dishabille;
the wired plexus recoiled from the sheer raillery of a tyro,
and the last mumbled, muffled length of grief was
hung on the dancing silhouette of a slobbering minute.

The mantra fell with the tantra....

And that was a futile dance of the synergy of dawn and dusk,
puking forth fizzing lava in a deft synthesis of now and then...

A wizened, creaking charpoy would have spelt vim with

generous saliva.

But then, the evening rolled on,

read less of the body chemistry and spilled humbled peas
upon the front page of the Offenbach Post.