In The Goethe-Institut Poem by Shola Balogun

Steep-stepped vaulting,
I held your suns gladly.

What manner of winevat and what words much graced!
What figured stone, or cardinal cycles
Bequeathed this fold of becalming curiosities
To the balance of water and wine.
Sprawled, was this not the gate of the deep
Where spurned Aristaeus in his up-turned brows
Sought the intensifying form of Eurydice!
Faust,
Steppe into the plinth of dreams, and see
You are not far from the infleshed Muse
Nor estranged from pruned tongues.