Oke Mbachu

A Theory of Laughter

You and your way of buffing those edges,
making it shine like new,
bringing order back to the table.

Now we can rest our elbows
atop its face in comfort again:
No embarrassment from what
you succeeded in covering, laughter.
The way you shake the ribs
and push the soul up an inch;
you must have prevented a few wars.
Herds of armies must have receded
beyond the circumference of your lapping wave.

Yet you are multi-talented;
you have a way of peeling back plaster
to show the exposed heart of cement,

or the worn face of wood;
your breath can dissolve paint.
In the wrong house, just the thought of you
can crumble entire foundations, you can be
a sinister one. Quivering on the edge of a lip,
you can turn a system of roses into
a failure of thorns. And pushed hard enough,
you might twist the world into
an apocalyptic knot, like a tense belly,
leaving ole messiah with no world to save.

Oke Mbachu, born in Chicago of Nigerian parents, lived in Nigeria from 1980 to 1990. He has received degrees from the University of Illinois, Urbana-Champaign, and Chicago State University, and his work has appeared in a handful of literary magazines and e-zines.