Onan’s Sin (For Edward Kamau Brathwaite’s NEGUS)

I am tired of
keening in oblivion
Empty words of an extinct species
Saying nothing
Meaning nothing
Being nothing.
Where is the word
that trumpets freedom
screams truth
beats down the gates of pretense
and takes eternity by the throat?

 

Where is the word
of blood and body?
Where is the living word?
A poet must do more than
lie
alone
jerk pen in hand
and stain sheets with sterility.

Lisa Allen-Agostini