I’m transformed, through a curtain of dust, a time bomb
I’m a jazz maestro, deep baritone
like storytelling Olu Dara.
My sweetheart, she can play the Kreutza sonata
I’m a poet,
writing obscene verses
I’m the Marquis de Sade, forgive me
I’m a sculpture
under a soap stone goddess,
she is working at my bones, touching me
with trigonometry
kissing me, with vowels
from the Arabian alphabet.
I’m sitting with Dambudzo, Taban lo Liyong,
speaking French and Shona
smoking from lobelia flutes.
I’m an actor in a tragedy, and
my tailor has Alzheimer’s
imagine my costume, my script laughs at me.
I met a happy boy on a mule and cart
riding like possessed Saul on a chariot.
Oh Lord, why can’t I play David’s Harp?
Why can’t I ride like the brat?

© Antony Gachagua