WaterMaid by Christopher Okigbo

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Bright

with the armpit dazzle of a lioness,

she answers,

wearing white light about her;

and the waves escort her,

my lioness,

crowned with moonlight.

So brief her presence –

match-flare in wind’s breath –

so brief with mirrors around me.

Downward…

the waves distil her:

gold crop

sinking ungathered.

Watermaid of the salt emptiness,

grown are the ears of the secret.