Stanley Iyanu

I Smell like Popcorn

I remind you of a smell / resplendent / similar to your past / I remind you of the nostalgia of a sunny day pebble beach and salt & vinegar chips / I’m your afternoon treat after a trip to the pictures before a midnight boogie / I give you that warmth you need that reminder of home that sense that you are not alone / holding my hand down the winding road

You said I ‘smell like popcorn’ / a smell so good / a smell so inviting / popping kernels in a white flame as the oil burns / a chemical reaction takes

place / this image locked in your memory / popping up / readying your path to follow as I lead you into that familiar sense of home / pretty box yours blue stripes mine has the ribbons you gave me /

If I remind you of popcorn / I remind you of a home / a home away from home / a home where you are not alone / a home where you can be at home with me / I hold you close to my memory / building sandcastles / sand grains on our palms / sand in between our toes / playing bucket and spades in the rock pools / crabs flitter by

If I smell like popcorn / then I’m your sense of home / and you / are my sunshine / and bright blue skies

Sehnsucht [hunger]

I fasten his petticoat, admonish his rebatta,

unfold every bend to each ruffle, then study

the stocking on each leg, adjusting it slowly.

He’s a scoundrel, a Jacobean rogue with eyes

that could make you fight any battle for him.

Like a call to arms with each eyelash flutter

I should call him both general and trickster,

the way he’s hopelessly out of my league, but

I want him to touch every part of me, even

the parts I do not like, all the places I hide.

Strengthening my resolve as I peel off the banyan,

unsheathing it like a blade – I’ve never been

jealous of a piece of clothing before, the way

it all hangs on him, just dancing on his frame,

plié in place like witnessing the greatest dancer

I’ve ever known. It isn’t until that moment,

when I am in, how his body curves into the

groove, his skin so soft; I wouldn’t expect

chiselled flesh to be so gentle.

His body, an Olympian, you, a work of beauty.

                                                                 Leidenschaft

…you’re humming, playing the sweetest tune

and he’s so in love with you

                                                    and not with me.

a lonely death [Kodokushi]

boundless, brittle, blithe

like old, silverware pieces

we are used, darling

weathered all life has to gift

so have a drink with me, yeah?

Poetry Books

• My Achilles, October 2023, Burning Eye Books
• the beautiful boys, September 2026, Burning Eye Books