Asterion Asks Michelangelo to Raise Him a Monument, Not the One Depicting His Polluted Love

You've   been hiding
inside your brown. You look at   your brown, loving it.
  Its time is   up. This evening, I'm spiraling out of
a crystal ball to quench you into   your shadow.

  An index finger should tell you my name: your phrenology should
be told another story. Today,   I brought fire to dance with me in the five
museums I visited today. They picked
up powder   and   made me bend for a long time —   then Theseus
quenched my light (again). Some asked me to express myself in sepia.

Can   you measure   innocence into my   pupils?
O, if I could just make you an aquarium so you
    can pour goldfishes into the matrix, so
  you can see me in that spectrum.

Crete is bluer on the NASA photograph—
a moth touched my hieroglyph
with its arms in one of those museums. I should let you define me by water.
I, being raised
to the p
          o
           w
             e
               r of six cubits—

my mother raised to ten. This time, I will be like Moses on her
  arms. Michelangelo asked, would the labyrinth be like Pharoah
daughter's arms? Yes. But   first, here is meat. Do   you     care?

Israel Okonji (He / Him) is a Southern Nigerian artist of poetry, storytelling & music. He is published/forthcoming @ Brittle Paper, Bruiser Magazine, Juste Lit, The Milton Review, Poetry-as-promised Lit, & more. He listens to music ranging from Marvin Gaye to Elton John, Nas to Kendrick Lamar, Ne-Yo to Chris Brown, Rihanna to Adele, Brymo to Made Kuti. He hopes to fulfill his dream of collecting records like Craig Kallman. Also, he hopes to own a bungalow housing cats and willow ptarmigans. He has a special place for Brit actress Emma Watson in his heart. He tweets @izrltrcz.

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