There lies in me the starving part, the stilted, beating, laboured heart, the Rubens Venus carved in stone turned gossamer on brittle bone. A practised, broad, malignant curse pulled steady by black horse and hearse, slipping slow and sweet in vein to numb the counsel, nerve and pain. The arrhythmic guilt of more and more…
Lower
I suddenly found myself standing in the middle of a dimly lit room. The air was hot, practically scorching, and carried the faint, sickly sweet smell of burning sugar. I spun slowly, trying to orient myself, and immediately realized I was in some sort of line. As soon as I attempted to turn back around,…
Lady in the Blues
This town is a song about you.A symphony of measured beatsmeandering through the dead-end streetsand winding paths down memory lanethat echo with a known refrain. The ringing notes of drawn-out nightsand cymbal clang of booming fights,set off by your all-too-short fuseto paint me in the shades of blues. Old lyrics haunt the faded corners,calling out…
A Sickness
It’s in the way we bloomed togetherand in the way we fell apart:wound tight and scraping rough against the softest parts,to claw-caress, and sting to soothe. All that’s left now are the ugliest parts.The looming shadow of two naked vulturescircling each other in anticipation,plucking out feathers to keep warmand choking on air we once shared…
Stranger, Stranger
In truth, it starts to ache at times, the wear and tear of all these years, stripped and laid bare eventually. Anchored first by steady hands, rough sand smoothed into blinding gems and stems that flowered beautifully. Was it then we learned to lie? Shiny words of trust and submission as we buried the truth…
Play Time
The light flooding my room is momentarily blinding. I squint, disoriented by the sudden shift, and try to gather my bearings, but my limbs are stiff and I’m dragged out of my room before I can make sense of anything. My eyes begin to sting as I imagine the day ahead, and I blink back…
Adam’s Apple
To boys of blue: you must not cry,for yours is but to do and die;to march without the dire complexand folly of the weaker sex. The world that you were born intohas spaces carved out just for you,ripe with fruit fit for your pleasure—pick and plunder at your leisure. Power over crafted creatures,(fragile forms with…
for love of butterflies
In order to loveI have surrendered the part of myselfwith the softest and most delicate skin. A simple touch will bruise, andif the nails are sharp they caneasilytear it apart. Mine isa prayerwhispered quietly intomirrored hands. Yours isan explosivebursting with the potential toscatter me.
The Love Eaters
Dear friend, you are the Love Eaters, you that do consume it. That see the entry and exit of blood and breath, the coming and going of life and death as waste if performed in the absence of a lover’s face. (From the start, were the spaces between our fingers set apart to make us…
Funmi
I first met Funmi when I was fifteen, in my fourth year of secondary school. My parents had been separated for two years by then, and I’d returned from London with my father the year before—someone I hated with fervent intensity. I loved my mother dearly, however, and I didn’t want to burden her with…
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