Memory
Steady afternoon of brown lights. A
boy dicing dusty sheets into his fragile
mouth. The teacher’s room in tumour.
Flayed papers flying around.
It is a classroom. The seats look creak
enough to break the silence of the day.
The atmosphere so blue we planted & bred
flowers inside our throat.
Two bodies bridging the
bond between breaths. Your Lanky
hands on a child so dear. It was a first
time i breathed as one with you.
We found our way into deeper lands –
wet and drippy – through tunnels. An
unending tickling amidst short cackles
and silent whispers.
Steady afternoon of brown lights. A
boy dicing dusty sheets into his fragile
mouth. The teacher’s room in tumour.
Flayed papers flying around.
in the beginning
was God and he is too pissed to carve us righteous titles
as well as righteous names because we suck at upholding royalties
because we fringe into scarred corners and drill rotting bruises
because we are too ugly to behold beautiful things
because our blood is too wounded to be named after an afternoon sun
because we are too salty to be chlorinated
because we are too void to be filled
because we are who we are and we can not change
because we chase after a ghost for restoration
because we drink foolishness out of brimmed churches
because we are deaf to a boy’s cry
because we are blind to a girl’s wounds
because we suck at humanity
because we own heavy voices to call out darkness
because we cringe at the mention of bullets
because our mothers are too beautiful to bear black children
because our absence reek of aloneness
because our bed space would wear a sad visage
because our wears would wear women’s grief
because. because. because.