¶
brown is a lysed red praying for haemoglobin. every shuteye
is a rehearsal to the idle eyes that will
soon parade death as a messiah.
¶¶
I wake up with a journey that itches my feet & I break through
the day to found a boy hustling freedom
in a doorless hall the walls steal his echo
while he watches silence walk past the
hosanna his bones cackle at every victory
that slips off his night-sky like a shooting
star.
¶¶¶
his body wears a cloud heavy with rain still he walks around
as a wasteland. I offered to help him gather
his anxiety into a handful of pupa--- a creature
that will soon grow wings & fly away through
this roof wishing to be torn wide open.
¶×
I offered to teach him the dialect he will
always love to own thus: boy to kill
boredom you have to learn how to play
wreckage with your body to auction
doldrum you have to remind the world
how old your scars were when Ibini River
first learned how to speak in tongues
¶××
to offer grave a hatchet for dinner you
have to learn how to dine with a spade
¶×××
to win liberty as a jackpot for gambling life trail the
thruway of the following guidelines:
(i)grow out of this body that has refused to wing
just because the ground promised it a safe landing.
(ii)speak of yourself as a castle of owls
(iii)& when the night persuade you to believe that
it will clothe your nakedness remember that
your nudity is already enough garb sheathing your
skeleton.
Nwuguru Chidiebere Sullivan (he/him) is a keen writer from Ebonyi State, Nigeria. He is a penultimate medical student and a Forward Prize nominee who makes poems from everything he can't stammer through speeches. He has works published or forthcoming at The Shore, Journal Nine, Clay Literary, The Lake, IS&T, B'K Mag and several other places. He can be reached out to on Facebook @ Nwuguru Chidiebere Sullivan, on Twitter @wordpottersull1