by Abena Ntoso

After “A Bone” by Nakahara Chūya

Look at this, it’s my sky
I’ve won it
playing with firearms
fireworks and hot dogs
grilled steaks,
chewing bubble gum
staring.

There is my sky, see, it
only weeps when it’s
supposed to
predictable to an extent
that’s how I defeated it
LED’ed it saving energy,
that’s how bougainvillea grow
in northern Siberia.

No need to imagine
how rare and uncouth
these bloody stars
can be; I’ve kept them
hidden behind high-quality
clouds so that they retain their virtue
prior to the installation
of my astronomic government.

Look at my sky
conquered by my vast army,
which I’ve purchased on sale,
see especially how
my captive moon wears
a fringed party hat of fire
now that I’ve made it
civilized.

So get me my celebration
my gold bracelets
and medallion,
authorize cotton candy and
a not-so-distant rodeo,
golden deep-fried butter and
an accurate fillet of history
befitting of my infinite
spoils of war.