Tag Archive for: Poetry

Tuesday Poem by Logan February


Yes, they warned him about the sugar
rush. And no, he didn’t listen. The beehive
sounded much like any radio. Who can

blame him for following it, his calves
twitching with excitement. No one knows
how far he went, though I once raised

my face to the sky & saw a pair of eyes
staring back. They looked exactly like his.
I learned lethargy as a word, for his sake,

before I learned the feeling. Now, I need
a good glucose boost. Please. I want,
please. My last two lovers called me hungry.

So I’m looking at the sky again, asking for
manna. He did it once, he can do it again.
Hello? Hello? I suppose no one is home.

An echo against a kitchen door, floor, sink.
Spice rack. Extra-virgin olive oil. My sacrifice
is the tongue I bite to keep from crying,

mine. One thing about ancestor worship
is your father never shows up when
you need him. This way he, too, is God.


Logan February is a poet and pizza-lover. He is the author of three collections of poetry. Say hello @loganfebruary

Tuesday Poem by Saddiq Dzukogi

A Poem with a Line from Carl Phillips

My body folds into a small
space, the mouth of a python
stretched for the swallow.

Solitude engorges the sound of heartbeats,
fulminating against the walls of my skull,
the curls of my hair.

They could let the nights unfurl
before them, splayed as figures
ingesting my fingers, soft as feathered steps,

the quicksand eats everything,
my shadow, whose skin is a skin
of an adversary welcomes the sun’s

multitude tongues, careened on leaves,
spilled on bodies, mixed
where the crescent stares across the horizon.

I don’t see anyone but shadows
drowning next to a mountain
on liquid earth, slipping through a pelvic floor,

deep into the mouth of the python,
the snake with two heads,
the snake consumes its own tail.

Tuesday Poem by Roland Nduka Akpe

What a Lichen

Like lichen I likened what you meant to me
to commensal affections
Passive symbiosis of resigned companions
who could live without each other
but would rather not

The cardinal rule in what we had
was an insistent middle finger
given to everything, anyone
who sought to teach us
that this utter reliance on the other
was toxic
We suspect it is
Do not confirm our fears
Do not speak it in spray of spittle
spritzing out your wise wise mouth,
Here’s a middle finger for your trouble –
Up yours.
Up north.

We are ended now
and this is what I liken it to:
The convenient end to Double Indemnity – a dark screen
and words;
A sack letter
plastered in words coated in more
words not meant, peppered in pretence of mint;
It is the beginning of morning
at a household with the breadwinner gone, dead at dawn,
is it still

Tuesday Poem by Dzekashu MacViban

Second Coming

There is a coup d‘état
New persons impose themselves to-night
And take into their hands— the Power—
To wreck the ship-of-state,
Give a dog a bad name, then hang it.
Thy throne‘s thy grave…
A young snake kills its mother
Yet, it ain‘t different
Déjà vu, I‘d say
As a dishonest saint replaces another
Is this our fate until the Second Coming?

This poem was taken from Scions of Malcontent (Miraclaire, 2011)