Eteocles

by Akpa Arinzechukwu

 Anne Nygård

3 AM We examine the body   For where the police officer Might have dug in with his finger   We pull from the ruins A ping pong ball   & a vinyl record The lala ♪ is a note   For endings In our hands   We drag the body Through the open fields   Collecting dews Harvesting preying vultures   3 PM The sun seeps through   A bad mood & even though   We tickle the body all along It holds its laughter   Childhood is a curse Memory builds on   As brothers Our young feet ran this way   In the winter mornings Harvesting heavy colds   Livestock poos & urines   The neighing Pegasus a kind guide Through the misty mornings   Standing in the way of darkness From consuming this reckless sacrifice   6 PM We let the body drop   Dropping against gravity The baton-bruise of the officer   Decapitated That what is left is mere bone   The gravediggers hiss as rain Covers what is left   No one touches the shovels Everyone digs through their bodies   With their fingernails till what is found Is a bone stuck in a pregnant goat’s mouth

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Akpa Arinzechukwu is an Igbo writer confronting their numerous identities. Their work has appeared or forthcoming on Kenyon Review, Commonwealth Writers, Kanstellations, Prairie Schooner, Sou’wester, The Southampton Review, and elsewhere.