‘my body is a country of diverse places’– Romeo Oriogun
there are doors i will never unbolt again,
i mean, puberty has heralded my wrist with
bean like calluses & every day my soul falters like
a wretched hand on a walking rod.
discipline has become a soothing mantra,
a boy sauntering through thorny shrubbery,
teaching himself to assuage his thirst with
drought, with numbing dry bones of
self-control. my lust, cowed into a chamber
fettered with a paradigm of locks
& i, an island sifting from the
geography of freedom, simmering
into a Calvary dispersed with broken appendages.
my lips, a corn stalk husked with silent dirges.
every time I think to start my fajr
with a canticle of Psalms rather than
peel the ears of my god
with the scalpel of my serrating supplications,
i fall like an aphthong out of a phoneme.
say, it is impossible to vowel
the ululation of a hymn
on a blistering tongue?
i beseech, how do we wear wounds
& call them beautiful sunspots of the
Lord’s presence with us?
there are nights my body becomes a candle whisked by the wind
& constantly, the mind is tormented
with thoughts of oblivion. thoughts of
fluttering like a white fly into dust. into nothingness.
into echoes of silence receding down
a gorge. into a being incapable of supplication
or yammering. into a being that is not
On this night, you are a window & the tiny fissures of the sky
peep through your translucent skin onto a kaleidoscope
of broken mirages. A beam of dark matter lightens within you
traversing through silky strings of networked veins, & black
halos eject grayscale spectra onto the color of your blood. You feign
masculinity & remain poised like a moulting arthropod relishing
the acculturation of a tawny ecdysis. Flighting rays of dark hue lap
your eye sockets with candlewax, surreptitiously desquamating your sight
with a native blindness, till you are plunged into an abyss, shutting you behind
venetian blinds forever.
Poems © Adesiyan Oluwapelumi
Image: Rudy/Peter Skitterians Pixabay remixed