Yale by Esiaba Irobi

Yale

(for Fanny Singer)

 

I keep thinking about you.

Those eyes. Those wrists

twirled in the halflight

of the Union league Cafe

like fine calligraphy.

That intellect. Fierce,

in its desire for life,

like red wine on Chapel Street.

Those breasts. Peeping like

Hellenic masterpieces at the dumb,

pretentious, museum crowd,

forever fixated on free food.

 

Fanny, I dreamt last night

that we were somewhere in Paris,

near the Seine, holding hands

like two statuettes come to life,

learning the geography of love

in Hemingway's moveable feast,

along Avenue Montague, amidst

the fake art shops and ceramic

joys of a decrepit art world.

(Have you seen the video:

"Who the Fuck is Jackson Pollock?)

 

There was jazz music in the air -

Sur Les Quais Du Vieux Paris by Guy

Lafette - I think, we were kissing,

Then I woke up in Norwich, Vermont

And remembered I had to attend

the opening of an art exhibition

at the Hood Museum in Dartmouth College

New Hampshire. It was raining.

Leaves of all colours were falling.

 

So, I crossed the Connecticut River

only in my mind, just sat there

on my bed in the loft of 90 Huntley Street

ruminating about you, listening

to the leaves and raindrops dancing

on the tiles above, wishing you

were there in my arms, your head on my chest,

your hair on my breast, your soft,

eloquent, voice pouring your love

and other sweet nothings into my ears

like a slow obstinate honey.

Esiaba Irobi - a poet, playwright, actor and scholar was born in the Republic of Biafra on October 1, 1960, and lived in in exile in Nigeria, Britain, United States and Germany where he passed away on May 3, 2010. He studied at the Universities of Nigeria, Sheffield and Leeds, and held a B.A. in English/Drama, M.A. Comparative Literature, M.A. Film/Theatre, and PhD in Theatre Studies. In 1992 his play, Cemetery Road won the prestigious World Drama Trust Award. His books include Nwokedi, The Colour of Rusting Gold, Cotyledons, Hangmen Also Die, and Why I don't Like Philip Larkin and Other Poems. He leaves behind a wife, Uloaku and a son, Nnamdi.